


Experience

by shhhhhhhhbimil



Series: Experience [1]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Accidents/Illness/Injury, Emotional Infidelity, Endgame: Yuzuru/Shoma, Friendship/Love, Gen, Happy Ending, Heartbreak, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Miscommunication, Multi, anxiety/depression, some sexual content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2018-11-01 11:20:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 292,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10920777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shhhhhhhhbimil/pseuds/shhhhhhhhbimil
Summary: Yuzuru's life has not been easy but every setback, the heartbreak, disappointment and struggle have made him the person he is today. A better person. A stronger person.He couldn't have done it on his own.





	1. Stranger

**Author's Note:**

> I got an idea and decided to go ahead and write. First few chapters of this will be kind of introspective but it will pick up somewhat. This chapter is just groundwork but I hope you enjoy it anyway!
> 
> This chapter mentions the 2011 Earthquake.

**Stranger**

Yuzuru doesn’t completely remember the first time he met Javier. He knows where and when, but the details have faded. It was a rather inconsequential meeting, anyway. They hadn't hit it off immediately. There were no fireworks. They didn't click and instantly become best friends.

It was at the Cup of Russia, his first year in the senior competitions. Yuzuru didn’t have a stable quad jump and was still unrefined. His body had still been awkward and caught in the middle of puberty; clumsy and weak. Yuzuru remembers how every competition and training session was a fight to just make it to the end, and then desperately try to catch his breath once it was over.

Javier had made mistakes. Yuzuru didn’t remember much of him from that competition aside from seemingly somewhat disgruntled at his coach, and that he hadn’t qualified for the final. Yuzuru had mostly been observing the people around him. He did that in most of his events that year, watched the other's in their practices and warm-ups, analysed, thought about what he needed to do, what he needed to change, to get to their level, and overcome them. 

They didn’t talk, aside from after the competition. Javier had smiled and patted Yuzuru’s shoulder.

“You were good.”

Yuzuru had shrugged but smiled. He didn’t say anything. He hadn’t been satisfied; he wouldn’t be going to the final, he had made mistakes and broke the repetition rule. It wasn’t what he wanted. But Javier had done worse, made his own mistakes and had finished behind Yuzuru. It would be impolite to complain about his disappointment at that time, to a stranger who was being kind. Yuzuru had thanked him and in broken English responded.

“You good too.”

 

Yuzuru had a clear view of what he needed to do after that competition, though. He wasn't stable enough with his quad toe-loop, he needed to train more. He needed to be at a point where his success rate for the jump was much higher. By the end of the season, he had managed to stabilise it. 

He didn’t make it to the world championships that year, but he won a silver medal at a major competition in his first senior season. He gained experience, perspective and some strength. It may not have been a particularly fruitful season, but it had been valuable. Nanami had been pleased with him. Proud.

"Next season, we'll get you to Worlds," she had promised with a smile. 

Yuzuru remembers that he had plans for that spring and summer before the next season would begin. Plans to train, to work on his jumps, to work on his skating. He hadn’t been good enough yet, but it was okay at that point. He had a vision of where he wanted to be, that season was just the warm-up, the real work was yet to come.

Then the earthquake hit. And everything fell apart.

For a while, Yuzuru wasn't even sure if he would skate again. If he could. If he should. If he wanted to. It didn't seem right.  
Skating was all he had.

"It's already destroyed so much," his mother told him, one of the nights he couldn't sleep. She rubbed his shoulder, feeling the boniness beneath the skin, the way his muscles had already started to soften and shrink away. "Don't let this destroy your dreams too."

If he was going to skate, it wasn't a matter of wanting to improve, he _needed_ to. He needed to justify going out on the ice; he loved skating but it felt like something frivolous and insignificant when he could be doing something, anything, else to help.  
His home rink was destroyed. He trained in Tokyo, in any rink that would take him in. He attended charity events and ice shows because it was a necessity to train, but it also meant he had money to donate to people who needed it. That made it okay, but it didn’t lift his guilt.

Yuzuru remembered the guilt because it never went away. It stayed with him for years. It drove everything he did.

He remembered the feeling of jolting awake at night in a hotel room far from home, or on a bus in transit to or from the venue he would perform at that night, in a cold sweat from the nightmares he had so frequently of the ground shaking, walls crumbling around him, ice cracking beneath his blades, scrambling out onto the street on his hands and knees. The guilt always followed the fear. He felt guilty that he lived when so many had died. That he had a home when others had lost theirs. When he still had a hold of his dreams, when others had theirs shattered.

The guilt hardened his resolve. It fused with his love for skating and competing, it mated with his desire to win and transformed him. He had to skate, he had to be better, he had to win; for Japan, for home, for everyone who had suffered and lost something, because it was all he could do.  
  


Nebelhorn was the first gold he won as a senior. Javier had been there with a new coach, seeming much happier than the last time Yuzuru had seen him. He had smiled at Yuzuru warmly and once again, patted his shoulder.

“You got even better!”

Yuzuru had smiled. A lot of the foreign skaters didn't talk to him, some had become awkward around him if they knew what had happened over the off-season. Yuzuru knew Javier was aware of the earthquake, of how Yuzuru had struggled to train and used shows to practice because Javier was friends with Miki, and Miki had done a lot of the shows Yuzuru had. Though perhaps not; he had moved coaches since then. Yuzuru  appreciated that Javier was not treating him any differently than he had last season, either way. 

“You too.” He had paused to think. His English had been poor, finding the words had been a struggle. “You do GP? Where?”

“I’m doing skate Canada and Rostelecom. How about you?”

Yuzuru had beamed at him. “I do Rostelecom too!”

Javier grinned. “I’ll see you there! Maybe I’ll beat you next time.”

Yuzuru shook his head, a pleasant bubble of competitive fire rising in his gut. “No, I beat you!”

 

Just like that, Javier went from being a stranger to being a familiar face and friendly competition. It was a welcomed development.

Yuzuru had some familiarity with others in the field, and he had always tried to be polite and friendly with everyone, but at the time he couldn’t really say he had friends in skating. At least, not outside of Japan, at not skating at his level. It was a natural thing, during the season when everyone was competing against each other, to be distant and wary of each other.

Yuzuru had been some kid that shot up from juniors with a few big jumps and a performance component score that had rapidly become more competitive. He had been a threat and was treated as such; with caution and a degree of discomfort. Yuzuru had grown close to a few skaters through the ice shows he had done in the summer, but it was hard to see them at international competitions. Many of his friends from juniors had fallen behind him. Other Japanese skaters, he got along with didn’t often cross paths with him at international competitions.

No one had been distinctly unfriendly, but between the age differences, the language barriers and the general atmosphere at competitive events; the warmth of Javier’s smile and the friendly edge he gave to the competition was a breath of fresh air.

So, when Yuzuru had won at Russia, with Javier right behind him at silver by a tiny margin, it felt good. The previous year they had both been disappointed with no place at the final, this year they were both going. They stood side by side with their medals and smiled for the cameras, waving at the crowd.

 

Seeing the progress of skaters around him made Yuzuru want to work harder. At the final, Yuzuru had watched Javier’s quadruple salchow with hunger. He had fallen on his triple, and he knew that having two quad jumps would be a requirement before long. He knew he would have to get his toe-loop more solid first, that there was time to bring another quad into his repertoire, but it became a big part of his grand plan. Yuzuru stared at Javier intently through gala practice as he ran through a sequence of steps, with a marked improvement in his flow across the ice, and landed a quad salchow like it was as easy as a double. Yuzuru wanted that.  
The JSF offered Yuzuru the opportunity to move on to a new coach, someone overseas, someone who could maybe do more for him as a senior skater.

"You should think about it," Nanami told him, her lips pulled into a tight smile. "Training seniors is different to juniors. I might not be able to help you grow as an adult."

Yuzuru had matured over the season. Nanami, as always, did everything she could to cover up his weaknesses and display his strengths, but he thought she could be right. Maybe this was as far as she could take him. Maybe it was time to move on.

 

“Your coach is good?” Yuzuru had asked Javier. Yuzuru remembers he had hoped to sound casual but had failed miserably. It was after the first practice session at world championships. Yuzuru was ignoring a mild ache in his ankle, which would grow through the competition until he was tying his laces so tight his foot would go numb in order to skate.

Javier had tilted his head at him.

“Yeah, he’s good.”

“You like?” Yuzuru had chewed his lip a little, struggling to think how to say what he wanted to say. “You happy?”

Javier nodded slowly.

“Yeah.”

He had said more, but Yuzuru hadn’t really understood much of what was said. Javier understood the pains of not speaking English natively but had a far better grasp on the language than Yuzuru did at the time. He knew to keep his speech simple, but perhaps occasionally over-estimated Yuzuru’s ability. It was, after all, hard to know from the small conversations they’d had to that point.

“Why?” Javier had asked eventually.

Yuzuru shrugged. “I just think.”

“You’re thinking about changing coaches?”

“Maybe. I want be more good. I want best. I want Olympic gold.”

“You want a lot,” Javier said flatly.

Yuzuru had gotten the feeling being so open and blunt with his ambition to a competitor was maybe something Javier hadn’t expected, and possibly didn’t approve of.

“If I say, I must do, so I say,” Yuzuru explained.

Javier chuckled. “I want a medal. Any medal.”

“You take silver,” Yuzuru jokes, “Gold mine.”

Javier had laughed and taken a mouthful of water. “You think my coach can help you with all that?”

Yuzuru sniffed. “You get more good very fast. You get quad sal. I want too.”

Javier shrugged. “If you think that’s what you need to do. Think about it.”

“Same coach as me is okay?”

Javier tensed for a split second. Yuzuru would later understand why. His previous coach had not been so good at dividing his attention equally amongst his students.

“I think Brian could cope,” Javier shot Yuzuru a sideways glance. “And you’re a nice kid.”

“I’m not kid.” Yuzuru had argued, drawing up his shoulders to correct his posture and make himself look taller.

Javier had laughed and ruffled his hair.

Yuzuru got bronze that competition.

 

There was a lot that went into the decision to move coaches, to leave Nanami behind. Yuzuru was aware of Brian Orser; he was an Olympic medalist himself, had coached Kim Yuna and helped her achieve an Olympic gold. That was certainly a factor. Javier had told him about the rink in Toronto; Yuzuru might not have understood everything, but there had been a dreamy tone to Javier's voice as he described the ice and the warm up room and all the facilities he had access to there in contrast with the small rinks and limited resources of his home country. The rink in Sendai had been damaged in the earthquake and had closed twice before. The prospect of a stable home rink, whether the facilities were amazing or not, was something Yuzuru craved. Taking up sixty ice shows over the summer in order to have ice to practice on had been difficult, though it had done a lot for his stamina, and had some benefit in helping Yuzuru adjust to different ice conditions. Seeing a silver lining to that particular dark cloud did not mean it was something he was happy to accept, though. He wanted stability.

And there was Javier. The example of the sort of progress a coach could make in a single season. There was a lot more Javier could improve on, but Brian had already started to tease out some of his potential. Though Yuzuru would have been lying to himself if he were to pretend skating was the only thing that had him considering moving his training to Canada. He did not have a wealth of peers in the local Japanese competitive field, certainly not in Sendai, and not skating at the same level as him. Yuzuru craved, so much, a friend who would motivate him, compete with him. They barely knew each other, but there was a warmth and openness to Javier that made him easy to like, and for whatever reason, Javier had seemed to take an instant liking to Yuzuru. 

Yuzuru wanted to train with him.

Just like that, Javier went from being a stranger to being a rink mate.

 


	2. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The move to Canada is a big adjustment that came with difficulties, but it came with a lot of benefits too.
> 
> Yuzuru considers how he became friends with Javier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very likely there will be some inaccuracies.  
> Please tolerate my occasional British English.

**Friends**

The rink in Canada was like a dream. Stepping inside, Yuzuru was hit by the sense he was entering world-class facilities immediately. He thought back to his home rink in Sendai, which was humble, and had constant problems with finances so had issues staying open. It seemed so small in comparison to the Canadian rink. Everything seemed clean and undamaged, maybe not all completely new but still fresh looking and well maintained. Yuzuru looked around intently as Brian Orser gave him a quick tour; the warm-up room, the gym, the main rink for group sessions and the secondary rink for more private practice, the lockers and medical room and office where Yuzuru could, if he so wished, talk to Brian or Tracy or any of the other staff privately whenever he needed to.

Yuzuru wiggled his toes in his boots and bent down to touch the ice in reverence. A habit he had; as if he were asking the ice for permission to come on, thanking it for letting him skate. Brian watched wordlessly, he had told Yuzuru to just do a few laps to get a feel for the ice before they put together a training program and started considering program options - but his accent was unfamiliar and he spoke a little bit too fast. Yuzuru just heard he had permission to skate and figured he’d do a little warm up, a few jumps, show what he could do. Have a little fun.

Yuzuru closed his eyes briefly as he built up speed. He loved the feeling of the glide beneath his blades and the wind against his skin. He checked he had enough space, adjusted his position, and threw himself into a triple axel. He always loved the axel. Some people were put off by the forward entry, Nobunari Oda once told Yuzuru he felt like he was throwing himself off a cliff when he did it, but Yuzuru liked it. He pictured a wall in front of him and pictured himself jumping over it. The higher he wanted to jump, the higher the wall he envisioned

He landed smoothly. Pleased, Yuzuru picked up his speed again, noted the space he had, started his entry and tried for a quad toe-loop. He fell, legs splayed out above him, and laughed.

A hand reached out to him.

“Need help?”

Yuzuru took the hand and let himself be hauled up.

“Brian said you were just supposed to test the ice, not do jumps,” Javier said, raising a brow at him.

Yuzuru sniffed and slipped into some basic stroking alongside Javier, to skate off the fall.

“Jump to test ice. Fall test ice too. Fall on ice a lot.”  
Yuzuru gestured with his hand, hoping to communicate he meant in future. Some ice felt harder, some softer, some ice gave you a good sense of grip when you picked for a toe jump and some ice didn’t. He needed to know at least a little so he could adjust his skating as the conditions required. Overall, the ice was well maintained and not too hard. Yuzuru was fairly satisfied with the conditions but could see the difficulty with communication would bother him very quickly.

Javier laughed. “Too true! Anyway, I think Brian wants you back. Something about your schedule.”

Yuzuru nodded, getting the general idea of what was being said, and reluctantly glided away towards his new coach.

“Thank you for hand!” He called out, looking over his shoulder as Javier skated away.

 

In the office, Yuzuru peered at the schedule Brian had given him to look at.

“So, at the moment you train two hours a day, right?”

“One or two, yes.” Yuzuru nodded. He gestured vaguely at his chest. “Here...hard...um...hurts.”

Already, he was getting frustrated with his English. He knew that Brian would know about his asthma, that attacks could be triggered by exercise and his training was limited by that, but that didn't mean it wasn't irritating to not be able to explain.

He looked up to check Brian understood him, to his relief, the coach was nodding.

“We will work on getting your stamina up so you can train for three to four hours a day instead. We’ll work up to it slowly, okay?”

Yuzuru stared at Brian for a moment. “Okay.”

He had no idea what Brian just said but he trusted it was something reasonable. Yuzuru turned his attention back to the paper.

“Um...First week. Little jump. Why?”

“We’ll focus on your skating skills and steps first.” Brian smiled at him patiently.

Yuzuru restrained himself from frowning. He had never been overly keen on practising skills. It was boring and tended to be difficult because if the constant effort required. He often just ended up being frustrated because his lungs would burn and his body would feel weak before he got much done.

“Then when we have a training routine set up for you, we’ll choreograph your programs for next season.”

Yuzuru looked up at Brian again and blinked slowly. “Okay.”

“Is there anything you are thinking of for your layouts?”

Yuzuru was pleased Brian was asking for him input so quickly. They had communicated, with some assistance, quite a bit already. Mostly Brian wanting to know what Yuzuru wanted and what he thought he could gain from him, but also letting Yuzuru know that as a coach he liked to take a more collaborative approach. Nanami had been a little less open to Yuzuru’s ideas at times, she would listen to him but generally, she had the final say. While a more rigid coach was good for Yuzuru while he was a junior and as he moved up to seniors; a coach that took his own vision in mind and was more open to Yuzuru’s own judgement felt like a better option for Yuzuru to develop into the kind of skater he wanted to be.

“I want two triple axel.” Yuzuru smiled. “In second half of free.”

Brian nodded. “I think we can do that.”

“And I want quad sal.”

Brian cleared his throat.

“Have you been training the quad sal?”

“I train but not land much.” Yuzuru cast himself mentally to his notebook in his bag. He methodically noted all the jumps and combinations he tried, in practice and in competition, so he could track his success rate and progress. “I land maybe forty percent. Want to get to sixty before season start. Want quad sal in free.”

He could afford to not land it every time next season, it was the season after - Olympic season - he wanted that quad salchow to be stable and have a decent amount of mileage on it. But Yuzuru couldn’t say that because he wasn’t sure how to put it into English.

Brain nods again and makes a note. "I'll think about it. It's something I can factor that into your training, but let’s wait a little. Just while you settle.”

Yuzuru assumed that was a yes and smiled. “Okay.”

 

It took a week for Yuzuru to realise that 'I'll think about it' was Brian's polite way of saying 'no'.

It took about three weeks for Brian to realise ‘okay’ was Yuzuru’s way of saying ‘I don’t understand what you said, so I’ll do whatever I want’.

 

Yuzuru appreciated Brian’s patience with him, though. He took on the habit of checking and double checking if Yuzuru understood what he wanted, and if required, he would use actions and demonstrations to get the message across, so that next time that particular word or phrase would not be so much of a problem. That did not mean Yuzuru was not somewhat frustrated at how much Brian seemed to want him to do basic training or work on steps or spins instead of spending more time on jumps. He knew he could benefit from some regular training for his skating skills, but he didn't understand why Brian thought he needed _so_ _much_ of it. 

Yuzuru fell into a routine. There was something very comforting about practice, despite the voice inside him that whispered he had to try harder, so better; he had made his mom come with him to Canada, had put a burden on his family and forced them apart. He had to show it was worth it, he had to make it worth it.

 

“Oh, baby,” His mom had patted his hair lightly when he had let some of those thoughts slip out of his mouth. “It’s not like we’re never going to go home. You still have school, and when you’ve graduated there will be times we go back to Japan anyway. We wouldn’t have done this if we didn’t know it would be worth it. It’s worth it if you are happy. Are you happy?”

Yuzuru let his mother hug him and nodded into the top of her head.

“Yeah, I’m happy.”

 

And he was. It wasn't perfect - he missed home, he missed his dad and his sister and his friends, he missed being able to speak and clearly communicate what he was thinking, he was struggling to adjust to the food even though his mom was trying her hardest to replicate the sorts of things Yuzuru could tolerate. But there were so many good things too. He liked the staff there, he liked the other skaters, he liked the safe feeling he had whenever he was at the rink.

He liked being around Javier.

 

Yuzuru wouldn’t say he found it difficult to make friends, but he was something of an introvert. Sometimes, people could be a little tiring.  
At school, he had friends but none of them understood why he loved figure skating so much. At his old rink, he had got along with the other skaters there but wouldn’t call them friends. Not many of the other people who used his rink skated competitively so he felt this strange distance between himself and others; their goals were different, so their approaches were different. At regional and National competitions, he had a few friends his age he felt comfortable with, but as Yuzuru’s results improved a kind of distance started to creep in. Their goals might have been similar, but they reached a point where Yuzuru’s ideals, his standards, his goals, had been moved far ahead of his friends’. Where they had once been so similar and so able to relate to each other, difference started to grow. It didn’t change the fact that they were friends, but there was a shift in dynamics.

Yuzuru had feared that the language barrier would isolate him in Canada. He was afraid he wouldn’t be able to connect with anyone there, that the things that tended to be a barrier between himself and other skaters at home - his drive, his ambition, his anxiousness - would be more pronounced, forcing Yuzuru into a bubble.

Javier well and truly burst that bubble before it could form.

 

They were so different, but they just clicked.It was as if they balanced each other out. Yuzuru, anxious and over-eager, would come to practice early and start as soon as he could, squeezing in jump after jump before Brian could redirect him to something else. Javier would come to practice late, casually strolling in with a coffee in one hand. He’d watch Yuzuru warm up, see Yuzuru land a jump, sip the coffee and put it down, tie his boots and head onto the ice. Yuzuru motivated Javier to train harder.

Yuzuru, frustrated at not landing a jump perfectly, would become hyper-focused and develop tunnel-vision, trying the same jump over and over, falling over and over until he wanted to cry and quit. Javier would land the jump he was chasing right in front of him and applaud when Yuzuru finally got it. Javier helped Yuzuru find the will to keep going.

Javier seemed to have a particular talent for people that Yuzuru had never quite managed to develop. He could read the people around him with ease. When Yuzuru was frustrated or too focused, he would diffuse that mood with a smart comment or a funny joke. Making Yuzuru laugh seemed like a hobby for him, because no day was complete without Javier mocking Brian behind him back, or pulling faces, or leaning close to whisper something silly into Yuzuru’s ear.

 

They sat together off the ice, unlacing their boots and getting ready to leave. Javier had arranged for the two of them to finish at the same time, so the two of them could head to Javier’s apartment to play a video game. It was the first time Yuzuru had been invited anywhere since he moved to Canada. His mom had seemed somewhat relieved when he told her - she had shared his concerns about isolation.

Often, Javier would sit with Yuzuru off the ice when he needed to take a quick break. Yuzuru was trying to improve his stamina, and one particularly punishing way to do that was to wear a mask as he skated. He would do run-throughs of his programs with a thin mask covering his mouth and nose, making it a little more difficult to breathe. His rule was, he couldn’t take the mask off or double over until he hit the rink wall. He would fight to maintain some half-decent carriage through the second half of his run through, hit his ending pose feeling as if he were about to faint, count back from five and then scramble to the sides so he could rip the mask off his face and collapse in a heap beside the ice as he caught his breath.

He would take short breaks whenever he felt his energy lagging, just moments to breathe and recuperate, so he could head out again and push himself to get more time to practice before he absolutely needed to stop.

Truthfully, Yuzuru knew Javier didn’t need to take a break, not the way he did, but Javier liked to sit with Yuzuru as he took a moment to catch his breath so he wasn’t alone.  
Yuzuru suspected that Javier also wanted to make him feel less weak for needing those little breaks.

He often found himself looking at Javier’s body - the muscles he seemed to have easily, the more typically masculine figure, the combination of long looking limbs with size that cut great lines on the ice while looking strong and solid. He envied that strength; the visible strength, the healthy colour of his skin and the lips that didn’t turn a strange shade of blue by the end of his long program. Yuzuru felt he looked like a sickly child next to him.  
He had tried to accept that he would never put on muscle the way that men like Javier did, that he would always look lean, thin and long. He could be okay with that, his willowy figure would allow him to skate in a way that other men couldn’t, he could create an image on the ice that other’s could not. But that didn't mean he never lamented his slight build and more androgynous appearance. Sometimes, he could embrace it but sometimes he envied the masculine physique he would never be able to possess.

 

Yuzuru flipped open his notebook and jotted down what he had attempted that session. Javier peered over his shoulder.

“What is that?”

“A notebook.”

Javier hit his shoulder lightly, Yuzuru turned back and shot him a cheeky smile.

“I mean, what do you write in it?”

“I write all my jump. Red dot is fall. Green dot is clean. Blue dot is land but bad,” Yuzuru explained, pointing at examples.

“You track all of your jumps?”

Yuzuru nodded, “So I know what jump I need train harder.”

“Wow,” Javier peered at the page again. “I’ll help you with your quad sal if you help me with my axel.”

Yuzuru perked up, delighted at that proposition.

“Okay! Javi’s quad is very good. Why I want to come here, to practice with you.”

“I’m touched,” Javier mock clutched his chest. “We can do it tomorrow if you want? Your quads are already getting better but it can’t hurt to do a few together.”

Yuzuru nodded furiously. “Tomorrow.”

“So, do you like it here so far?”

“Yeah I like,” Yuzuru smiles. “I feel...thanks? Because rink is...I go every day?” He huffs in frustration. He can’t explain in English the relief that comes with having a secure place to practice after having nowhere last summer and a history of his home rink closing down with little warning.

“Yeah. I used to have to move around a lot. I never knew how long I’d be staying in one place. It’s nice to know Brian isn’t going to randomly decide he wants everyone to move to France or something.”

Yuzuru nodded. It was a relief that Javier understood what he was trying to say and that he understood the feeling.

 

That was the thing about Javier. Even when Yuzuru couldn’t verbalise his thoughts, he somehow understood. He understood how it felt to not have security when it came to training, he understood how it felt to move far away from home and to suddenly need English all the time despite not, initially, being particularly good at the language. Javier understood wanting to win, looking up at the same kinds of heights that Yuzuru wanted to reach, from the same kind of current position. Javier had some different pressure to Yuzuru, but they were similar; Javier might not have to face the competition of a deep field at a national level, and Yuzuru didn’t have the pressure of being the only high-level skater of an incredibly small skating federation; but Javier was the hope of Spain, and Yuzuru was the rising star of Japan. There was a lot of common ground.

Later, when they were laughing, Javier lightly elbowing Yuzuru in the side in an effort to make him slip up in his relentless button mashing, they stopped being skaters and competitors. They were just two guys, hanging out, playing video games.

They were friends.


	3. Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Javier touches everyone a lot, but he touches Yuzuru the most.  
> Yuzuru kinda likes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have omitted details of Yuzuru balancing training with finishing high school because I honestly just don't know how Japanese high school works or the details of how he did it. I hope that doesn't spoil the chapter for you.
> 
> Also, I know nothing about video games.

**Touch**

Had you asked Yuzuru if he was an affectionate person, he would probably say yes. Many teenage boys shied away from showing love to their mothers, but Yuzuru never saw any shame or embarrassment in hugging his mother - for comfort or just to let her know he loved her and appreciated her - or his father or his sister. He was playful with friends, he would happily rough-house with his same age friends, allow a _senpai_ to pinch his cheeks and enjoyed doing the same to his _kohai_ ; he was less reserved, more likely to touch and physically show affection than most of his peers.

He realised rather quickly that compared to Javier, the amount he touched his friends at home was nothing. He had never met anyone as demonstrative as Javier in his life.

It had started with little things, even before Yuzuru had moved to Canada. A hand on his shoulder. A pat on the back. A ruffle of his hair.  
As they became rink mates, as they became friends, it grew more common. Javier’s arms slung across Yuzuru’s shoulders as he listens dutifully to Brian’s instructions, high fives after practice, a helping hand after a fall. Or Javier touching Yuzuru’s arm or knee or thigh as they talked, as if touching would help Yuzuru absorb the English better; Javier’s hand on Yuzuru’s waist as they leave the ice, or him lifting Yuzuru clean off the ground and spinning him around or tickling his sides whenever he was feeling particularly playful. Friendly, comforting hugs when Yuzuru seemed inexplicably down.

It had been, admittedly, a bit of culture shock. Yuzuru wondered for a while if Javier was simply incapable of communicating with anyone without touching them.

He watched how Javier interacted with the other people around them. It did seem that Javier just naturally reached out to touch whoever he was talking to at least once during a conversation, even Brian. You could almost do a countdown; the long time elapsed since the conversation started, the more likely it was that within seconds, Javier would be patting or tapping or poking or touching in some other way.

However, it seemed like he touched Yuzuru most of all. Yuzuru wondered why. 

So, when Javier strolled in one morning, his usual 15 minutes ‘fashionably’ late with his usual half-drank coffee in hand, boots tucked under his arm and he immediately patted Yuzuru’s head with his free hand, Yuzuru looked up from where he was tightening his boot laces and asked “Why you touch me so much?”

“Huh?”

Yuzuru cleared his throat, sitting up straight. He adjusted his tone a little, to seem more innocently curious and less borderline annoyed. “Why Javi always touch me?”

In the distance, Yuzuru heard Brian cackle.

Javier looked a little crestfallen. “I...Do you not like it? I can stop.”

Yuzuru hummed, thinking for a moment. Did he dislike it? He thought about the pleasant warmth whenever Javier draped an arm over his shoulder, or the pleasant feeling of affection when Javier ruffled his hair. He liked that Javier wasn't afraid to rough-house with him every now and again, but could also be very gentle with him. He thought of the fun and rush of happiness and closeness whenever Javier tickled his sides and the quiet comfort when Javier rubbed his shoulders when he seemed unhappy. It didn't bother him, not really, it was just a _lot_.

“I don’t not like,” Yuzuru clarified. “Just thinking.”

Javier sits next to him on the bench, gently placing his boots on the floor. “Well, I don’t realise I’m doing it sometimes. I do it to everyone.” He shrugs, “It’s just a natural thing to me.”

  
“But Javi touch me more. Why?”

  
“Well, I like you.”

Yuzuru instantly felt his face flush. He looked back down at his boots sharply and covered his cheeks with his hands. He felt a little alarmed, as he hadn’t expected Javier to say such a thing, but also strangely giddy. “Oh.”

Brian, obviously eavesdropping, laughed again.

“I mean, you are my _friend_ ,” Javier said hastily, realising how he sounded. “So I like you, I feel comfortable with you so I touch you, to feel closer to you. Do you understand?”

Yuzuru nodded slowly, then paused, then shook his head. His cheeks were still burning.

“It’s a kind of bonding thing. Um. I want you to feel happy and welcome and like we are good friends. That’s why.”

Javier sounded a little awkward. Yuzuru didn’t know what he meant by ‘bonding’.

“Touch makes Javi happy?” Yuzuru looked back at Javier, still holding his cheeks to hide how red they were.  
  
Javier nodded enthusiastically.  
  
“So, I can touch Javi too?” Yuzuru paused, wondering if that sounded odd. His cheeks grew warmer again. He pressed his hands a little harder against his cheeks. “To play.” Yuzuru clarified. “Play is okay?”  
  
“Yeah! I like playing with you, that’s all.”

Yuzuru thought that perhaps Javier should have just said that _first_.

“I go on ice now,” Yuzuru said, standing abruptly. He fled.

 

There was always something special about the first competition of the season. Usually, there was an odd sense that there was little pressure - especially if the event had no real stakes - while simultaneously a feeling of pressure to start the season well and give new programs a good first outing.

Yuzuru’s short program went...okay. He fell on his quad and generally lacked finesse, but it wasn’t a disaster.

“You nearly ran into the boards after your axel so we need to work on bring that back next time,” Brian said, handing Yuzuru has water bottle before the scores came out. Yuzuru nodded, scanning around Brian quickly.

“Where’s Pooh?”

Brian looked startled for a split second. “Oh, I left him over there. Sorry!”

They laughed. Brian wasn’t totally used to all of Yuzuru’s little rituals yet. He didn’t really have many, most were just on him, and didn’t really require any oversight from his coach, but Pooh was important. His scores were...okay, not terrible but something to build on.

Javier did better.

“I hope that’s not the best I skate all season,” Javier joked. Yuzuru pushed his shoulder.

 

Yuzuru ended up with gold, Javier bronze. Overall, Yuzuru was very satisfied with the competition. It was a good start to the season. It was where he wanted to be. It gave him that little bit of confidence to start the Grand Prix series with.

On the podium, Javier put his arms around Yuzuru’s waist for the photograph, like he was supposed to. He also, however, started tickling Yuzuru’s waist almost immediately. Which he was _not_ supposed to.

Yuzuru giggled. “Javi, don’t!”

Javier ignored him. Yuzuru nudged him once, and then again a little more forcefully. He tried to smile normally, naturally, as Javier wiggled his fingers against a particularly sensitive spot just below Yuzuru's ribs that made him want to scamper away. He elbowed Javier sharply, wrinkling his nose to hold back the urge to laugh.  
Javier smiled as if nothing was amiss at all.  
  


After their next competitions, they celebrated too. Javier had come first at Skate Canada, so Yuzuru hugged him next time he came into practice. Yuzuru had come second at Skate America but set a high score for his short program, so Javier had lifted him up in a bear-hug and spun him around.

“NHK, I get gold, you get silver, okay?” Yuzuru grinned at Javier.  
  
“What if I get gold?”

Yuzuru mocks a frown for a moment, pretending to think.

“Hm, I think I lose to Javi it is okay.”  
  
Javier laughed. “I’m flattered.”

 

Going to NHK seemed particularly poignant that year. Yuzuru wasn’t just competing in his home country for the first time since moving his training to Canada, but his home region. He had trained in Miyagi when the rink at Sendai had closed. He had known that the arena they were to skate at had housed the bodies of people who had not been as lucky as he had been when the earthquake had hit, and the tsunami had followed. There were a number of conflicting feelings in returning there to compete; the guilt that had lingered with him since he chose to continue skating after leaving the evacuation center, the guilt of leaving his home to train overseas; the pressure to perform well for his home crowd and the ghosts that lingered in the arena to show them _why_ he moved to Canada, that it was _worth it_ , that it was the _right decision_ . But also the comfort of being home, in the region he grew up in, surrounded by his native language and the familiar sights and smells of _home_. The feeling of knowing many people in the crowd would be rooting for him, that he would see his father and sister. He would have Brian and Javier there with him, people who were important to him in Canada, symbols of his move, his forward progression, but he also had all the little things around him that had shaped who he was.

That combination of pressure and calm helped him set another high score. After the short program was finished, he turned to a new habit, and hug Javier tight in his glee, giggling into his collar. Javier was third, it didn’t seem inappropriate to celebrate with him. Javier certainly didn't seem to mind.

Yuzuru’s free skate was far from perfect, but it was enough. He leant back in the kiss and cry, losing his head in the decorative flowers, in relief and shock when he realised his score was enough to take first place.

“Well done!” Javier praised him backstage.  
  
“You saw?”  
  
“I watched, yes.”

Yuzuru whined and pouted. He was embarrassed. He might have done enough to win, but it was not a flawless performance. He had run out of stamina after the halfway point and made silly mistakes.

“I so...ahhh!” He covered his face, he didn't have the words for his mild humiliation. “My sit spin! I sat!”

Javier laughed and patted Yuzuru’s head. “But you were very cute.”

Yuzuru suddenly felt very warm. He looked up Javier. “I'm cute?”  
  
“Your smile was very cute,” Javier nodded. “Also you end pose.”

Javier posed, mocking Yuzuru’s embarrassed head tilt, clutching his hands at his cheek and batting his eyelashes. Yuzuru laughed and hit his shoulder.

“I don’t do that!”

“It was very cute, I’m sure everyone watching fell in love with you.”

Yuzuru tried to ignore how his cheeks were turning very pink. He was inexplicably pleased to have Javier gush at him, to say that anyone watching could fall in love with him. He almost wanted to ask if that included Javier. 

Instead, he decided it was time to flee again.

“I go talk to Daisuke now.” And so, Yuzuru shuffled away.

 

When Yuzuru stayed in Japan and Javier was away in Europe, it really hit Yuzuru just how much he had grown accustomed to Javier’s presence and constant touching. At Nationals, Ryuju laughed at how much more Yuzuru would poke at him, Nobunari fondly teased Yuzuru for napping on his shoulder, Shoma Uno became quietly resigned to Yuzuru’s completely joy in pinching his cheeks and squishing them together.

“I think Shoma is concerned you are going to permanently reshape his face,” Keiji joked after a practice session.  
The free skate was coming up, Nationals were drawing to a close. Yuzuru knew once the National championships were over he would miss being around, and competing with, so many boys his age he could speak to freely.

“His cute little cheeks will disappear soon, I want to love them while I can.”

Keiji laughed. “This is why he’s still so shy around you, you know.”  
  
Yuzuru pouted. “He’ll warm up to me. Hey after the free skate, do you wanna do a video game tournament with me and Ryuju?”  
  
“Sure, I love beating you at _something_.” Keiji joked. “Can I bring Shoma without you ripping his face off? It’d be fun to watch him cream you too.”  
  
“I make no promises.”  
And with that, Yuzuru stuck out his tongue and flounced away.  


When he won gold, Ryuju let Yuzuru hug him in celebration.  


Yuzuru considered the second best part of Nationals to be the annual video game battle. Yuzuru was perched at the end of his hotel bed, Keiji cross-legged next to him while Ryuju was sprawled on the floor and Shoma was sat on the floor between Yuzuru’s legs with his back against the mattress.

Yuzuru was losing. This was wrong. Ryuju was supposed to lose.

“God, Yuzu, you suck at this game,” Ryuju told him, snorting as Shoma killed him _again_.  
  
“Hey, my only opponent all summer was Javi and he is the absolute worst.”  
  
“Ah, yes, Javier,” Keiji sighed. “Ryu, how do you feel to have been replaced as Yuzu’s best friend?”

Ryuju fakes a sob, “So, so very hurt.”

Yuzuru throws a pillow at him, Shoma laughs.

“Hey, I still keep in touch with you. It’s just hard because I’m in Canada.” Yuzuru sulked, his voice perhaps a little too defensive. He wasn't exactly awesome at keeping in touch with his friends, but he was busy. And he was trying.  
  
“Yeah, yeah. You’re going four continents this year, right?” Keiji asks, scowling as Shoma picks off his character on the screen.  
  
“Yeah, since I can’t do it next year. It’d be nice to get the gold there for next season.”  
  
“You’ll go to the Olympics?” Shoma asked quietly.  
  
“Duh,” Keiji and Ryuju said in perfect unison. Shoma pouted.

Yuzuru’s phone chirped. He truthfully didn’t use his phone for much, other than listening to music, but it had proven useful for keeping in touch with his friends and family while he was in Canada, even if the time difference and his schedule made the process a bit slower than intended.

He rolled backwards on the bed, abandoning his game controller, to grab it.

 

 

> **Javi:**  
>  >Hey, how did Nationals go?

 

Yuzuru smiled at his phone. Ryuju raised an eyebrow.  
“Girlfriend messaging you?”

Yuzuru huffed. “What girlfriend? No, you moron, it’s just Javi. He got Line so he could talk to me while he’s in Europe.”

Keiji and Ryuju shared a look and sniggered. Shoma silently killed everyone on screen.

“I have won this game like five times now. Maybe we should play something you guys are better at?”

While the others bickered about which game to play, Yuzuru replied.

  

 

> _ > I am champion (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و  
>  > And you? _

  

 

> **Javi:**  
>  > Congratulations!  
>  > Haha, 2nd year in a row!
> 
>    
>  _ > Yay! We both champion! hahaha  
>  __> I play game now~ Good luck at Europeans!_

Javier and Yuzuru continued to exchange messages like this. Short little updates and small encouragements until they would both return to Canada and resume training for the World Championships.

They didn’t manage to make it on the podium together again that season, but it didn’t really matter. Yuzuru maybe didn’t achieve everything he had hoped for, but his progress was something to be proud of, and he was happy to share it with a friend who had also had a good season and also made great progress.

Javier got bronze at Worlds, Yuzuru was 4th. But it was fine. He was happy for his rink mate.  
Backstage, Yuzuru hugged Javier tightly, his face pressed against his shoulder, to congratulate him.

He thought:  _just this time, it’s okay that I didn’t win any medal. Because Javier did.  
_ He thought:  _it’s okay. So long as I can hug him_.

Really,  he felt happy whenever Javier touched him.

 


	4. Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuzuru is driven by desire, but it comes with complications. Javier is there when Yuzuru needs him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a million words long I'm sorry.
> 
> Mild warning for the depiction of an anxiety attack.

**Desire**

 

When Yuzuru was in middle school, he decided he was going to be an Olympic champion.

He decided he would win his first Olympic gold at Sochi in 2014. It wasn’t that he set it as a goal or that he decided he wanted to try, he had made his mind up that it was a fact. He would work hard, do whatever he needed to do, and at nineteen he would win the first Olympic goal medal in men’s figure skating for Japan. He freely told anyone who asked what his goals were for years.

It would happen, he would make it happen.

 

Having confidence and belief that he could do it made him all the more certain it would. He had thought there was so much time for him to become good enough to be the Olympic champion. Every season, every competition, every practice session since he set himself that target he had analysed how much progress he had made, whether or not he was on track, how much more he needed to improve.

Moving to Canada had helped with a lot of things. Yuzuru’s stamina had improved, he had access to different choreographers, he got what he wanted in being able to practice with Javier and develop his quad jumps, and his skating skills were getting better. He was getting closer to having the skills and fitness for his ideal skate; a harmony of the technical and the artistic, where all the elements had a place and purpose in the choreography.

But he wasn’t there yet. The flow from element to element was not yet seamless, he still wasn’t as stable with his quads as he wanted to be, he still felt there was something lacking from his performance.

Time was running out. Once the summer ended, the Olympic season would begin.  
His goal was at his fingertips. For the first time, it seemed terrifying.

 

Yuzuru was accustomed to a certain amount of pressure.

He kind of enjoyed that part of competing. It was part of the process, it’s what drove him forwards, what kept him in practice when he wasn’t enjoying practice, what made him pick himself off the ice and try again when a jump ended with him crashing down to earth. Pressure was a natural product of competition, and a certain amount of it was a necessity to give Yuzuru the focus to perform. Without it, he would be cocky, sloppy, and lazy.

Of the pressure that was not simply inherent in the nature of competing, Yuzuru would estimate around seventy percent of his pressure was self-inflicted.

  
“What would you say your goal is for your skating?” Brian had asked Yuzuru, back when Yuzuru was still new to the Canadian rink and Brian was still trying to get to know Yuzuru.

“Good jump. Tech always getting better,” Yuzuru had said with barely a second of thought. “But every jump is part of program. Looks easy like everything is choreography.”

 

Brain had hummed, pleased with the response. He liked that Yuzuru had a clear vision of what he wanted to achieve.

 

“In training, what do you want to improve the most?”

Yuzuru had paused for a moment in thought.

“Everything,” he said finally. “Must improve everything. Must practice everything until perfect every time.”

 

He hated losing. He hated coming off the ice knowing he made mistakes and lost points. He hated knowing he could have done better but just didn’t produce it. He would hide his foul mood, force himself to smile politely to the cameras and restrain himself in front of his coaches and other competitors. Once he was alone, he wouldn’t sleep, he’d find videos of the competition and watch over and over again, picking apart every step, finding every fault.

He wanted to skate, ideally, with no falls or without any kind of costly error. Whenever he failed to do that, he felt each error weigh down on him.

 

“What do you like the most about skating?”

It was a question Yuzuru had received so often, but he never knew how to answer. There was so much he loved about the sport.

For once, he let himself be honest about the one thing he loved the most.

“Winning."

 

Pressure came from outside sources too. Or, at least Yuzuru thought of it as outside sources, but they were still somewhat self-inflicted too. He didn’t want to disappoint the audiences that paid to watch him perform, the fans that had been steadily growing in number, cheering him on. He didn’t want to disappoint his coaches who worked so hard to help him or the choreographers that worked hard to make his programs. He wanted to repay his family for the burden his skating placed upon them, and of course the eternal thought at the back of his mind of the suffering his hometown and region and how desperately he wanted to bring even a single person from home some joy or hope or pride through his skating, he had to do it. He had to try.

The media was something that had been somewhat present for Yuzuru since he was a junior skater, but over the years the attention on him had been steadily growing. More eyes turned on him every year, his name appearing in print or said on tv more frequently, more and more people talking about him on the internet, more microphones and cameras being pointed in his direction. Usually, it wasn’t too bad, he didn’t have to deal with it too much. Training in Canada meant he avoided a lot of the attention but as the Olympic season loomed closer, the attention seemed to intensify.

 

In the weeks spent in Japan for ice shows during the off-season, it was practically impossible for Yuzuru to shut out all the media buzz surrounding him.

He had spent a few days in Sendai before returning to Canada. He knew the hype over the Olympics was already in full swing simply from the amount of times he’d had to give interviews. He occasionally searched his name to see what was being said about him, to see support messages fans threw out into the abyss of the internet, articles, videos or analysis of performances. He had stopped doing that a few months ago.

He couldn’t help but snap to attention when he heard his name mentioned on a news broadcast. He sat upright on the sofa between his dad and sister.

An image of himself from eight or nine years ago flashed onto the screen. His younger self, smiling into the camera, confidently announcing his wish to win Olympic gold.

“Hanyu is one of the favourites to win a medal for Japan at the upcoming Sochi Winter Olympics alongside Daisuke Takahashi,” the anchor said on voice over, as they showed various clips from previous competitions.

“He has been very outspoken about his wishes to win gold, but to do so he will have to beat more experienced skaters such as Patrick Chan of Canada, who is the current World Champion.”

“Yes,” a second speaker chipped in. Yuzuru winced as they showed a clip of him falling on a quad salchow.

“Hanyu is currently the Japanese Champion, but he can lack consistency…”

Yuzuru quickly stood up and hastily left the room.

 

It didn’t make much of a difference if the comments towards him were negative or positive. Every prediction of him getting a medal was a weight added onto his shoulders to achieve it, every harsh comment questioning his worth stung, and added to his desire to get the gold and prove them wrong.

He wanted it, so badly, for so many reasons.

 

That’s all he could think about as he entered the rink. It was his first day back after finishing up the last of his ice shows, he had flown back from Japan, taken a day to adjust and rest after the flight, and was ready to resume training.

 

His first competition of the season was three months away, seeming both far away and too close. He had so much he needed to work on in those three months, because it felt so vital that he had to win that first competition to start the season off on a lucky streak. He would keep his short program, which meant it should be well refined by the time the big events started. That didn’t mean he could neglect it though, he needed to make sure every step was tight and he needed to improve his performance and interpretation. He thought how he should study the performances from the previous season, again, to get a clear vision of every arm movement, every step, every flourish, every tiny detail that could be improved to elevate to the program. His free program, he was reusing a theme he had already used, but different music cuts and a different vision.

 

“Are you sure you want to do Romeo and Juliet again?” David had asked, exchanging a look with Brian.

Yuzuru nodded slowly. He had already discussed the choice with Brian. He knew it wasn’t that they doubted his decision, but that they wanted to be absolutely sure of his choice.

“Music is familiar, less stress for Olympic. Can play different character. Try different feeling.”

 

When he had skated as Romeo it had fit him, because it was a character and program built around a will to fight for something beloved. At the time, Yuzuru had been fighting for his ability to skate. This time, he opted to explore the subtle, grace and devotion of Juliet. A less hot-blooded program, a little less dramatic maybe, to test and display the development of his skating skills and artistry. 

He needed to get a clearer image of what he wanted the program to be, drill the choreography into his muscle memory. His steps, he needed to make sure his steps were clean, with deeper edges and greater control. He needed to make super his spins were as good as they could be, falling on a spin in a major competition was a humiliation he did not want to repeat. His jumps, he needed his jumps to be stable. He had to be faster, jump higher, land cleaner, improve his extension and posture, move more gracefully…

He wanted a good practice. He wanted to get off on good footing for the next three months of preparation before the season started.

  
He ended up actually having an awful practice session. He couldn’t focus. It felt like his body just wouldn’t cooperate with him. Every jump attempted failed.

Frustration was building up inside of him, so intensely he felt he would burst at the seams and spill all over the ice. The frustration wasn’t alone. It came accompanied with the pressure he’d been carrying with him all summer. It came with fear. _You’re not good enough. You’re going to fail._

“Take a little break,” Brian told him. “Calm down a little, rest a bit from the falls, we can start again when your head is less all over the place.”

Brian watched him start to leave the ice, before turning his attention back to others who were warming up. He didn’t see Yuzuru’s hands curling into fists to hide the way they started to shake, the lowering of his head, the tension in his shoulders.

His breath rattled out of him. He wanted to cry and leave and hide away.  
Yuzuru felt Javier’s eyes on him as he quickly left the ice to sit at the side.

He would stretch off a bit, maybe he didn’t warm up enough, maybe he just needed to wake his muscle up a little more thoroughly than he had. Maybe he just needed a little break to clear his head and get a little more in tune with his body.

 

Except he didn’t feel like that was possible. He couldn’t calm down.

It wasn’t a problem with his warm up, he had warmed up _just fine_ before going onto the ice the way he always did and had been extra careful to get himself prepared for practice because he knew his muscles would be somewhat unhappy from the flight and the day off from training.

It was just him, he was too weak, he wasn’t good enough and there was no way he’d get himself to the level he needed to reach in time. He was going to let everyone down. So many people would be looking at him in the coming season, all the way through, from the very first event right up to the last. So many eyes would be on him, so many people have been talking about him, pinning hopes on him, expecting him to be something special and he was going to let _everyone_ down. He had so much he wanted. So much he wanted to do. So much he wanted to improve. And he was going to _fail_.

 

Yuzuru sat on a bench beside the ice. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He could feel his heart racing and he couldn’t control his breathing anymore. He was breathing too fast, he couldn’t slow it down. Was he having an asthma attack? It didn’t feel like his asthma but he still felt like he wasn’t getting enough air. His head was spinning, vision getting a little blurry. He was shaking.

He just wanted to stop thinking for a moment and calm down, but he couldn’t. His mind wouldn’t stop throwing out constant irrational thoughts as if one bad start to one practice session was the end of the world and everything, everything, was going wrong, would continue to go wrong and everything would fall apart. The air around him felt heavy and seemed to press down on him from every side. The sound of blades on the ice seemed deafening, striking every nerve in Yuzuru’s body with every stroke. He needed to get away. He needed to get away, but he felt like he couldn’t move. If he stood up, he felt like he would fall down. That would be bad. If that happened, he’d be off the ice for up to a week, and he couldn’t afford that. He needed to practice, he needed to do it now, he had so much to do, so many people expecting so many things from him…

“Yuzu?”

He hadn’t noticed Javier had left to ice, or that he had approached him. He could feel that he was shaking, that he was still breathing in shallow, rapid breaths. His eyes were brimming with tears. He just wanted to escape.

“Are you okay?” Javier asked, his voice unusually gentle and full of concern.

Yuzuru shook his head mutely.

“Do you need your inhaler?”

Inhaler. Ah. For his asthma. Yuzuru shook his head. He felt like he was going to throw up.   
It didn't feel like an asthma attack. His breath was coming too fast, too shallow, but it didn't feel like a band was compressing his chest or like his lungs weren't deflating properly. It was a different feeling. A different problem.

At least the low tone of Javier’s voice was not as grating as the sounds from the ice.

“Do you think you can move?”

Javier had knelt in front of him. Yuzuru could hear the deliberate change in how he spoke; lower than usual, an attempt made and speaking slower and clearer.

Yuzuru shook his head. The dizziness was getting worse. His mind still felt like it was racing, split between screaming at how fast his heart was beating and how he needed to breathe slower but couldn’t, while the other half circled around and continued to spit out unhelpful nasty comments about how _weak_ he was, how he was a disappointment to _everyone_ , he worked hard but still wasn’t good enough and was going to _fail_.

“Can I touch you?”

Yuzuru nodded and Javier carefully put his hands over where Yuzuru’s own were gripping onto the edge of the bench. His face was wet. Tears streamed from his eyes. Javier spoke to him softly, guiding him to slow his breathing down from the edge of hyperventilation to jagged, irregular inhales. Still fast, still shallow, but less so than before. Javier's thumbs stroked light, slow circles over Yuzuru’s knuckles, matching the rhythm of his voice. Yuzuru tried to focus on that voice, on the familiar touch.  On the ice, someone landed a jump. The sound of the blade hitting the ice made Yuzuru flinch.

“Do you want to try going somewhere quieter?”

Yuzuru nods.

“Okay, we’ll stand up together. I’ll help you.” Javier said slowly, gently.

Javier slowly, carefully, moved his hands to support Yuzuru as they stood. Yuzuru’s legs felt like they were going to collapse under him, but he stood. His hands still shaking, tears still falling, head still spinning.

What was happening? What was wrong with him? He couldn’t grasp what was happening. It was like his body and mind had betrayed him at once.

“Great, you’re doing great,” Javier told him, guiding Yuzuru to an office. Brian’s office.

Oh, Yuzuru thought, Brian must be wondering what the hell was going on. Would he be angry? Yuzuru was wasting so much of him time right now, Javier’s too. They were both supposed to be practising and instead Javier was having to babysit him…

 

“Okay, let’s sit down,” Javier guided Yuzuru onto the floor, back against the wall.

Yuzuru was confused for a moment, there were chairs in the office, but then Javier sat next to him, getting an arm around Yuzuru’s waist so he was in a one-armed hug, pulled in close to Javier’s body so his head could rest against his shoulder.

Yuzuru closed his eyes, listening to the soft rumble of Javier speaking in slow, simple sentences. He focused on the warmth of Javier’s body, the way he smelled, the gentleness of his fingers rubbing soothing circles against the back of his hip and the hand that lightly brushed the tears from his cheek. Javier directed his breathing and whispered gentle encouragements until they were taking slow, deep breaths together. The hammering of his heart had finally slowed back to an acceptable rhythm. His mental voice, eventually, quieted.

 

“Are you okay?”

“I feel better,” Yuzuru said slowly. His voice was rough. He didn’t lift his head from Javier’s shoulder.

“Do you know what happened?” Javier asked gently.

 

Yuzuru nodded slowly. “Stressed. Bad practice. Need to be perfect.”

“You don’t need to be perfect in practice,” Javier told him. “That’s _why_ we practice.”

“Not getting better. Only fall. Only pop. Not good enough.”

Yuzuru could feel himself starting to get worked up again, and Javier must have felt it too because he resumed rubbing circles against Yuzuru’s hip.

“You are wonderful. One bad start to practice doesn’t change that.”

Yuzuru knew that. He, rationally, knew that. Knowing didn’t silence the silly, scared part of his mind, though.

“I ruin your practice,” Yuzuru said, voice barely louder than a whisper. His throat felt dry. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I still have time,” Javier told him. “And, anyway, there’s tomorrow.”

 

Yuzuru felt regret. He didn’t know how much time had passed since he had left the ice for his break, since Javier had joined him or how long they had spent in the office. He couldn’t take the time he had to practice for granted. Every minute he got to be in the rink, on the ice, safe and free to skate and practice, was a gift. He had not just wasted his own time, but Javier’s too. And Brian’s. Everyone's.

“You are too hard on yourself.” Javier shifts, displacing Yuzuru from his shoulder, so he could look him in the eye. “But, you know, you can always come to me, right? Or Brian. Or Tracy. If you’re stressed, or worried, we want to help you. Okay?”

Yuzuru felt embarrassed. Was he so weak, that he needed to lean on so many people?

 

Javier seemed to sense what Yuzuru was thinking and lightly held him.

“Hey, it’s okay. We have a lot of pressure to deal with. We’re a team here, right? We help each other.”

“Okay.”

“You mean it?” Javier asked.

Yuzuru nodded.

“I mean it.” Yuzuru hesitated. “You can talk to me too.”

Javier smiled at him and gave his shoulders a little squeeze. “I know.”

 

He didn’t finish his practice that day.  
Brian didn’t seem angry or frustrated, just concerned. It was a relief for Yuzuru. Bria just wanted to know what happened, and how he could help.  
Yuzuru took Javier’s advice and told Brian, the best he could, about the anxiety that had been steadily building in his mind.  
Brian understood. He remembered what it was like, to compete, to be so close to an Olympic season with everyone looking at you, expecting you to take the gold. He hadn’t experienced the kind of attention Yuzuru received, he hadn’t faced the same intensity when it came to fans and media. He hadn’t been through the traumas and hardships Yuzuru had, but he understood.

“Go home, get some rest, we can pick up your training tomorrow.”

Yuzuru had wanted to argue, Brian shut him down before he could try.

 

“It’s okay, we’ve got plenty of time. Resting is part of training too. I don’t want to risk you having another panic attack or setting off your asthma. Your health is the most important thing.”

 

Yuzuru had been concerned that the moment of his stress overwhelming him would change things, that he wouldn’t be able to shake it off.

Instead, things got easier. Brian and Tracy made small adjustments to their approaches during training sessions, noting when Yuzuru was becoming hyper critical and diffusing the pressure before it built up too much.

Javier did what he always did, being the perfect counter to Yuzuru’s intensity. Within days they slipped back into their regular roles and routines. Yuzuru helping Javier to focus, Javier helping Yuzuru to relax. They would laugh as they did laps around the rink, racing each other, Yuzuru tossing his head back and laughing loudly as Javier held him by the waist and lifted him off the ice. The stress, the pressure, simmered down to a manageable level most of the time, and when it did bubble up and threaten to overwhelm him, he wasn’t alone. He knew the people around him would help him bring it back down.

 

Just over a month away from the start of the season, Yuzuru and Javier lay side by side on Javier’s bed. They had gone to his apartment after practice to just hang out and de-stress. It wasn’t often they spent time together after practice, but when they did it was nice. It was a moment where they could just relax around each other, play video games or watch football or listen to music.

It was a moment where they could talk, honestly and openly.

 

Yuzuru had friends. Maybe not really in Canada, outside of people he knew from the rink. He had friends at home. He had friends that were skaters. He kept in touch with them the best he could, but it was sometimes hard to speak with them completely honestly when he wanted to complain or vent. He didn’t want to seem ungrateful of his opportunities, or insensitive to his friends’ struggles. He didn’t have that fear with Javier. They wanted to same things. And Javier understood just how fiercely Yuzuru wanted it.

 

“I guess I just want to be able to end the Olympics feeling proud. Last time I kinda did because I had a new personal best there and no one had skated for Spain for years. I want to do better this time.” Javier mused.

Yuzuru shifted so he was more comfortable, looking over at Javier. His hands were tucked under his head, his foot gently bobbing with the music they had put on to fill the silence. They tended to do a trade. Javier would have Yuzuru listen to an album or collection of songs he liked, and Yuzuru would introduce Javier to some of his music in return. They never judged each other for singing along to a favourite song, enthusiastically off-key.

 

“You want medal, right?”

“It would be nice,” Javier grinned. “I just want to do better than last time.”

Yuzuru laughed. “Last time you twelfth. Of course this time you do better.”

Javier hit his arm lightly.

“Don’t jinx me!”

“What’s jinx?”

“Like a curse. Bad luck.”

 

Yuzuru looked back at the ceiling.

“I don’t jinx. Just truth. Javi works hard, skating is much better than before. You can get medal.”

“It’d be great to take an Olympic medal back to Spain,” Javier sighed wistfully.  “But, I don’t want to get my hopes up too much. I just want to skate in a way I can be proud of.”

“Good goal,” Yuzuru murmured.

“Yeah, well, my Fed is trying to hype me as medal potential anyway.”

Yuzuru snorted, “Yes, hope of Spain.”

Javier laughed. “You have it worse, right? Hope of Japan.”

Yuzuru shrugged, “Japan has other skaters.”

He looked back over at Javier, right as Javier looked over at him. Javier’s expression seems to say ‘ _whatever’._

Yuzuru sniggered.

“I’m Japan Champion but Daisuke is still favourite. I could still lose spot.”

Javier rolled his eyes.

“You’re the gold candidate though. Everyone knows it.”

“Yes,” Yuzuru smiles grimly. “I’m stupid and said to everyone I want gold so now everyone expects gold.”

“Yeah, one of the first things you ever said to me was that you want Olympic gold,” Javier laughs. “You have to do it if you say it, right?”

“Yeah. It scary now I have to do,” Yuzuru dropped his voice as if he said it too loud it would somehow escape the room. “I want so much.”

“You can do it,” Javier smiled warmly. “I’ll cheer for you.”

Yuzuru smiled. “I cheer for you too.”

“You better!” Javier nudged Yuzuru playfully.

“It’s weird,” Yuzuru sighed, looking back up at the ceiling. “I always have stress. I never freak out before.”

“It happens. Brian said it was from media? You’ve always had a lot more media than me but not this much. I freaked out before my first Olympics too,” Javier said, casually.

“Really?”

“Yeah, way worse than you did.” Javier paused, something shifting in his expression, suddenly seeming a lot more vulnerable that Yuzuru had ever seen him look before. "I had panic attacks but I never knew what was happening. I had a few before I found out what the problem was."

Yuzuru unconsciously leant a little closer to Javier.

“I’m scared I will do again.”  
  
Javier clumsily patted his thigh. “You might. You might not. Freaking out once doesn’t mean you can’t handle it anymore. Everyone just has a limit. At least now we all know you need a bit more support from us.”

Yuzuru dares to look back at Javier.

A strange feeling curled in Yuzuru’s chest. He couldn’t help but to look at Javier’s lips. He wanted to reach out and touch them, trace the shape of them with his finger. They looked soft. He wondered how soft they were. He wondered what it would be like if he leant forward and pressed his own lips to Javier’s. How would they feel?

 

The special thing about Javier was the way he really did cheer for Yuzuru. He always had, but Yuzuru had wondered if they could continue to be friendly during competition for a season that had more riding on it than usual. They both had eyes for the same prize, and even if Javier had less local competition than Yuzuru and his home country was less interest in the sport, they were both the ‘young hope’ of their countries. The rising stars.

There was a mutual respect between them, an interesting dynamic where they wanted each other to do well, and supported each other, but also wanted to beat each other. They motivated each other.

They inspired each other.

 

Yuzuru would stare in the mirror at home, loosely going through the steps, the choreographed arm movements, of his programs. He studied how his body looked, how it moved, the lines he created, his facial expression, the motion of his arms.

Yuzuru thought he was rather plain looking. Not ugly, but not particularly striking. His face held onto a little childish roundness, despite starting to become more refined with age. He knew he was not _completely_ unattractive, but he was kind of average. It was rare anyone ever told him that he was handsome, he usually called ‘cute’, fans often commented that he was ‘pretty’.

It didn’t bother him, not really, but he sometimes wished he looked a little more...masculine. Sometimes in practice, his eyes would wander to Javier; his broader shoulders and muscular arms. His body looked strong, powerful. Yuzuru would watch the way his muscles flexed when he moved his arms, the way his loose training pants clung to his thighs.

 

Javier was handsome, Yuzuru thought. Classically handsome. Unquestionably masculine. Yuzuru liked Javier’s big brown eyes, the way his hair was a little curly even when it was short, his smile.

Yuzuru wasn’t like that. His eyes were small. He was pale and thin. Where Javier was strong, Yuzuru was lean. Where Javier's face was angular, Yuzuru's was rounder. Javier looked more like a man, Yuzuru thought he still looked like a boy. He was often told he looked frail, willowy, feminine.

He didn’t _mind_ so much, that he was a little androgynous. He didn’t think he looked particularly _girly_ , but the ability to sometimes appear more feminine could be used to his advantage on the ice. It gave him a little versatility. It was an energy few of his competitors possessed. He had accepted that he would never, really, be able to look any different. When it came to his skating, he could make it a strength.

But he couldn’t help feel a little insecure about it sometimes. He wished he looked a little less ‘cute’. He wished he looked stronger. He wished that a more masculine energy came to him more naturally, or at least as naturally as the feminine seemed to.

 He felt like that was missing from his short program. He had kept the one he used last season because it was successful, he enjoyed skating it and it felt comfortable, but he wanted to elevate the performance.

 

Olympic seasons were strange because people who had little interest in the sport usually would be watching. Skaters often went for safer options, because the competition was once every 4 years and for many, attending was a once-in-a-career opportunity. Yuzuru wanted to skate and communicate clearly who he was and what his skating was about. He wanted some of those people who were watching him for the first time to want to watch him again.

It was a little depressing that drawing out more masculinity and being anything close to sexy was such a struggle.

 

Yuzuru narrowed his eyes at the mirror, popping in his earphones and starting the music for his short program again.

He had studied the previous season’s performances, looked to see what he could improve. He wanted to seem more connected to the music, more refined in his movements, but his face seemed to struggle to make an expression that didn’t look angry or strange when he tried to look seductive or cool.

 

He tried again. He held his posture straighter, moved his arms with a little more tension, hitting posed a little sharper and less like he had noodle arms flopping in the air. He stepped lightly, shot a glance into the mirror, ran his hands through his hair and smirked. For some reason, he pictured Javier, watching him. He imagined trying to impress him. Or attract him.

He moved to his next position, flung his arms too enthusiastically and sent his lamp flying off his desk.

 _Oops_.

 

“Yuzuru! What are you doing? So noisy!”

Yuzuru picked up his lamp and looked apologetically at his mother, who had flung open his door at the noise.

“I was image training.”

She huffed.

“Do you not have something quieter to do? You’ve been stomping around in here for-”

“I haven’t been doing it for that long!” He had only run through his program maybe four times....

She rolled her eyes at him.

“Did you break anything?”

Yuzuru looked at the lamp and shook his head.

 

The image training paid off in the end. When the season started, he got what he wanted. He got his good start.  
Javier didn’t get such a good beginning to the season.

“Sorry, you didn’t get to final,” Yuzuru told him in practice. “I want you to be there.”

Javier shrugs. “Oh well. More time to prepare for Nationals and Europeans.”

Yuzuru nods.

“I’ll cheer for you.”

“You will watch?” Yuzuru asked, a little surprised. He assumed Javier wouldn’t.

“I’ll try,” Javier promised.

 

  
**_99.84_ ** . Yuzuru looked at Brian with wide eyes.  
“So close! So close!” Brian chuckled. His face was pinker than usual from excitement, his eyes full of pride, not a shred of surprise. As if it was obvious Yuzuru would score so high.

“Next time 100!” Yuzuru joked.

Brian laughed, “You were so close!”

 

He got a new personal best in the free skate, and won the Grand Prix final for the first time. It was a rush and a relief. He was exactly where he wanted to be, starting the season with a gold in the first major competition of the year.

Javier messaged him, after the medal ceremony.

 

> I wanted to congratulate you on your short but I didn’t want to risk distracting you : )

> You make me want to practice harder.

 

Yuzuru had responded with a smile on his face.

 

> You already work hard!

> Let’s work harder together ^^

 

It was odd to feel the palpable shift in dynamics at competitions. Everyone was stressed, more strained with each other. Patrick Chan, who was perfectly polite but always a little distant to Yuzuru, seemed colder than usual. The Russian skaters a little less jovial, seeming more wary, more guarded. Even Nobunari had some of his usual bounce knocked out of him, the strain making him a little quieter than usual.

 

“Congratulations!” Nobu patted Yuzuru’s shoulder, his smile a little strained.

“You too! I’m happy you were on the podium with me.”

Nobu pulled a face.

“Bronze isn’t bad at all, considering I only competed because Dai withdrew.”

“I hope his injury isn’t serious,” Yuzuru murmured.

“Yeah. I hope so too.”

Yuzuru knew no one ever wished injury upon any skater, but he wondered how sincere either of their wishes really were.

Japan had three spots for the Olympics, who would go would be determined at nationals. There was less room for camaraderie amongst countrymen.

 

It seemed the only person who remained fairly easy going was Han Yan, who despite being disappointed with his position in the competition, had congratulated Yuzuru with a warm smile and a cheeky “See you in Sochi.”

 

It drew sharp attention to the strangeness of Yuzuru and Javier’s dynamic. The mutual support, the way they both genuinely wanted the other to do well, the friendship that somehow defied the stress and strain of being rival competitors.

It was a little sad, to not have Javier there to compete in the final, to celebrate with him when he got his new best scores and won the gold for the first time. He felt like that sliver of friendliness, that little piece of normality, would have provided some relief from the increased focus on the rapidly approaching Olympic Games. The Grand Prix events just fed the hype that surrounded Yuzuru. Then Nationals made it grow even more.

 

It was hard to shut out, the growing noise from all around, but the voices of support lifted him. There was hope, and faith, that was reassuring. So many people saying he could reach his goal. So many people saying he could achieve his dreams. So many people saying he _was_ good enough. Before Yuzuru left Japan, he had his friends wish him luck and offer their support. Nobu, who was wounded at missing out on an Olympic spot, gave him a tight hug and a wide smile.

 

“We’ll be cheering for you,” Keiji promised. Shoma nodded from where he was, lay on his belly on Keiji’s bed, feet kicking in the air behind him.

“Don’t forget us when you’re an Olympic Champion,” Ryuju joked.

“Of course I won’t. I’ll need you to keep me sane.”

Keiji laughed. “We’ll gladly ensure your ego is deflated regularly.”

Yuzuru had gone quiet, not wanting to ruin the mood but unable to hold back.

"What if I do badly?"

"Just try to enjoy it," Shoma mumbled. "At least you're going."

Yuzuru managed a small, thin smile. "You want to go?"

A flash of something - humour, maybe, but also determination - flashed in Shoma's eyes.  
"I'll go to the next one."

 

Grand Prix champion. National champion. The titles made him feel stronger.

He was motivated to live up to the name.

 

Practices became quieter, less playful than in the summer, more focused. It was usual, for Javier and Yuzuru to have less time together when the season had started, but when they did see each other, they shared a smile. There was no animosity. Only support. Only respect.

Yuzuru thought of what Shoma had said. Of how his mother had tried to calm him by telling him "It's just another competition.". He thought about the women's skaters for Japan, who had each wished him well and promised to cheer for him. Kanako had hugged him tightly and whispered in his ear "If you trip on the step sequence, I'll laugh at you forever." Mao had echoed Shoma's sentiment, ruffling his hair with a big smile.  
"Try to enjoy it. You only get your first Olympics once."

He skated around the practice rink, taking in the surroundings, feeling the ice beneath his blades. He tried to just enjoy the moment, of knowing he was one of the best in Japan just to be there. He tried to warm up for his run through normally, only for his idol, Evgeni Plushenko, to skate past him and immediately become flustered and giggling to himself. Brian rolled his eyes at him but was glad that, at least, Yuzuru wasn't a nervous wreck.

Before the team event, Tatsuki squeezed his shoulder and wished him luck. They both knew that after the team events were over, they wouldn't have in in them to wish each other well. They would be too busy focusing on themselves. 

 

 **101.45**.

Yuzuru pumped his fists into the air. He had done his best, he had set a new high score, he was the first to break the 100 point barrier for his short program. His efforts paid off. The efforts of his team paid off. He could almost feel the gold medal in his hands.

And then he felt it slip away. His free was riddled with mistakes. He fell twice. He stood backstage as the scores came in for Patrick. 275.62. Yuzuru stared at results table. His score had been 280.09.

He couldn’t believe his eyes.

He was so sure he had lost. He was so sure he had failed.

“I’m first? I’m the first?" Yuzuru asked, dazed. He couldn't believe it.

The press around him laughed.

“You’re first!”

 

There were no words for the feeling. He was so overwhelmed, he had no idea what he was feeling. After so many years of saying he would win Olympic gold, he had done it.

 

Yuzuru squinted at the screen and took the video back a few seconds for the fifth time.

He was cross-legged on his hotel bed. After the medal ceremony and what felt like endless interviews and photo for the press, there was only one thing he wanted to do, and that was sitting in the quiet of his hotel room with his laptop.

He was watching his free skate performance, again. He stared at the jump entry, the speed going in, the position of his feet and body, analysing where he went wrong. Trying to pinpoint the moment he lost control of the jump. Trying to determine what he did wrong, so he could fix it, and next time, avoid those mistakes.

A knock on the door startled him.

 

He hits pause on the video, scrambling off the bed and slowly, warily, opening the door.

 

“Oh, it’s just you.”

Javier frowned at him.

“What do you mean ‘just’ me.”

 

Yuzuru laughs, stepping aside to let Javier in and shutting the door behind him, making sure it locked after him.

“I mean not press or someone weird.”

“Press can’t bother you here,” Javier smiles. “Aren’t you celebrating? Where's your roommate?”

Yuzuru wrinkled his nose. “Went to drink.”

 

Javier flopped onto Yuzuru’s bed and peered at the laptop.

“What were you doing?”

“Watching free.”

Javier gave him a long, hard look.

“Have to check my falls,” Yuzuru explains as if Javier had not known exactly what he was doing.

“How many times have you watched it?”

“Maybe five?”

Javier narrows his eyes and threatens to throw a pillow at Yuzuru.

“Okay, so, let’s not do that,” Javier closed the laptop. “Can I see it?”

Yuzuru paused, then nodded and shuffled to get the little box he was storing the gold medal inside.

He sat next to Javier on the bed and carefully lifted the lid.

 

“It doesn’t feel real,” Yuzuru admits, staring at the medal. “I’m so happy. But, also, I feel...frustrated.”

Javier made a small, confused sound.

“Why?”

“I...Some people say I shouldn’t win.” Yuzuru looks back to Javier, who pulled a disgruntled face.

“Those people are sore losers.”

Yuzuru thinned his lips. “I didn’t skate best.”

“Sure you did,” Javier said. “You earned it. You were amazing.”

Yuzuru shook his head and sighed.

“Free skate was nothing special. Free skate was bad. I fall twice.”

“And you still were better than anyone else,” Javier cupped Yuzuru’s cheek in his hand gently. “You are special every time. Always.”

Yuzuru felt his heart beat a little faster. He almost felt embarrassed, Javier sat so close, holding his face like that, but he couldn’t look away from Javier’s eyes.

 

“There was only ever one real champion here. It was always you," Javier said, voice low and sincere.

Yuzuru felt his face flush hotter.

“I will prove at Worlds,” he said, shakily but with determination.

Javier laughed. “You already proved it.”

 

Yuzuru smiled, letting Javier pull him in closer for a hug. He closed his eyes for just a moment, cheek resting on Javier's shoulder like it belonged there. 

Javier pulled back, and Yuzuru moved his head to look at him, when Javier lips pressed against his. It was quick and soft, lingering for barely a second before Javier pulled away. Yuzuru froze, confused. Had Javier meant to kiss his cheek? It must have been an accident…

But Javier didn’t seem shocked or embarrassed, he wasn’t acting as if he had accidentally kissed Yuzuru’s lips. Rather, he asked Yuzuru if he could lift the medal and slipped it over Yuzuru’s head.

“See? It was made for you.”

 

Happiness crashed down on him like a waterfall. _Javier kissed him_. Thoughts of mistakes and not being perfect, worries about his win being contested, they were all chased away by the thought. Javier had kissed him. There was no room for any feeling but the happiness and excitement that brought.

They did what they always did. They lay on Yuzuru’s bed and talked. Javier bemoaned the mistakes that had kept him off the podium, Yuzuru listened and consoled. And they celebrated, bouncing on the bed, laughing.

“I feel crazy!” Yuzuru giggled, flopping onto his back. “What if I wake up and it just a dream?”

Javier pinched his arm hard.

"OW!"

“It hurt right?”

Yuzuru pouted, rubbing the sore spot. “Yeah.”

Javier grinned at him. “It’s not a dream.”

 

After his victory tour, Yuzuru was glad to be back training. It was good to go back to something normal. It was like his life had been picked up in a whirlwind. Suddenly everyone in Japan knew who he was, people in other countries knew who he was, press from all over the world was talking about him, interviewing him. He had so many events and requests for events and offers for endorsements he had no idea how to deal with them all.

On the ice, everything was still the same. Suddenly preparing for world championships was the least stressful and overwhelming part of his life. It was a relief to have one more competition to focus on, even if it was a struggle to drown out all the noise surrounding him.

 

He could scarcely process when he won. He stood on the podium with Javier on one side and Tatsuki on the other, so happy he had no idea what to do with himself. He had done it.

 

Away from the ice, away from the cameras, away from the other skaters and their coach and anyone else, Yuzuru threw his arms around Javier’s neck.

He had started the season so scared, so unsure, so full of anxiety and somehow he had finished with everything he had ever wanted. He had been so afraid of failing, and instead, he had done the improbable - he had won every major competition of the season.

 

“I win because of Javi,” Yuzuru said, muffled against Javier’s neck. “I can’t win without you.”

 

Javier had started to respond, but Yuzuru was feeling brave. 

He was feeling reckless. He was feeling lucky. He was high with the rush of winning, overwhelmed from the happiness and wildness of it all. He thought back to the summer; when he had been worried and Javier had been there for him. He thought about them sprawled on Javier’s bed, trying not to stare at Javier’s mouth. He thought about the hotel room in Sochi, when Javier’s lips had brushed against his own and how much he wished he had pulled Javier close and tasted his lips then.

Yuzuru gathered his courage and cut Javier off with a kiss.

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Development

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the start of summer, it feels like off-season is so long, but it ends faster than you expect.  
> Yuzuru and Javier's relationship develops over the summer, but summer doesn't last forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> place your bets on how long the next chapter will be.
> 
> thanks to Ela for checking the reason this chapter earns an M rating and putting up with me as I agonised over how to write it for like 2 days.

**Development**

 

Being in Japan was dizzying.

Yuzuru had been aware that his public image had somewhat exploded following the Olympics since he had done a number of events and various media engagements in the weeks following. Having swiftly returned to Canada and the quiet bubble that the rink provided with their strict limitation of media presence, he hadn’t quite been prepared for just how much his public presence had grown.

It wasn’t like he wasn’t already all too familiar with the caution he had to employ as a something of a public figure. He was used to having to be careful to maintain any kind of privacy. He was used to his family having to go ahead of him, or behind him, or dodge out of the way to avoid cameras and fans. Figure skating wasn’t exactly a huge sport, even in Japan, so while he got a fair bit of attention, it was low-level. Manageable

Now he was more of a household name, and the problems that came with that attention grew more pronounced. Like the growing concern at the back of Yuzuru’s mind that people would suddenly become interested in his life off the ice, and what they might find if they did.

 

Yuzuru felt like he hadn’t had a moment to stand still to process anything for a while.

He had gone to Japan for shows and various engagements immediately after the World Championships. Then had been busy non-stop with everything from struggling to keep on top of his university work, to meetings with JSF over his plans for next season and the flood of endorsement and public appearance invitations he had been receiving, to having to do photo shoots and commercial shoots and interviews. All while thinking about his programs for next season what music he would use, what his choreography would be like, what layouts he would challenge.

 

Speaking to the media had always been something Yuzuru just dealt with. He never found it particularly difficult, not as much as some other skaters he knew. He had been praised for sounding more mature than his age, or being particularly good at interviews and press conferences ever since he started having to deal with media with any regularity. Some would say he seemed fake, too rehearsed when answering questions scripted, insincere. It was simply rare for Yuzuru to be asked something he hadn’t considered to some degree before. He was a quick thinker, and he never got particularly nervous when facing a camera or microphone.

He didn’t really see how he could appear more natural or real. He always just answered questions with what he thought.

“I don’t know how you are always so cheerful,” Tatsuki had said to him with an edge of awe after watching Yuzuru go from talking to press, to greeting fans, to posing for photos and back again in the days after winning the Olympic gold. “I don’t mind these things, but it gets stressful and tiring, and you just breeze through it all.”

Yuzuru shrugged. It was a little stressful, especially when so many members of the media would repeatedly ask him about the earthquake; something Yuzuru avoided talking about to spare himself reliving that feeling of the world coming down around him. It was tiring, trying to speak to multiple people at once when all he wanted to do was rest or skate.

But when faced with fans, he saw himself reflected through their eyes. He saw the admiration they had for him, the pure happiness they felt just seeing him, the way they just wanted him to do well and supported him with no expectations of receiving anything in return other than a smile, a hello, and a chance to see him perform. He had been that fan; he had other athletes and musicians who he would be excited to meet. It was odd to be on the receiving end of that excitement, but it was something precious.

 “I’m just glad they are interested in me.”

Even when Yuzuru returned to Canada, it was as if there was scarcely time to breathe. He was there for his choreography and to train before going back to Japan for ice shows. He didn’t have a chance to feel his exhaustion.

 

“You kids do too many ice shows,” Brian grumbled at both Yuzuru and Javier before they set off.

“Ice show is good practice,” Yuzuru smiled cheekily.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t break yourself doing crazy jumps in the finales.”

Being at the ice shows was something Yuzuru always enjoyed. He felt like it was a way to thank the crowd for the support he had received through the season. It was also nice to skate purely to perform and entertain, instead of to compete. It was valuable practice, after all, performance counted in competition too.

 

Yuzuru leant on the practice rink wall, sipping his water in a short break in the pre-show practice. He liked the group practice sessions, for the same reason he enjoyed galas after a competition. He liked being around skaters from different disciplines; there was something to learn just from observing them. He liked having a moment to be around other skaters as friends, not competitors, to watch each other’s exhibition run-throughs and applaud. Mid-tour was nice. Everyone was comfortable with each other, with the routines, with their own programs, so the atmosphere was relaxed and fun.

His eyes naturally flicked to where Javier was chatting with a small group of skaters, Miki Ando laughing at something he said and animatedly turning to say something to the person next to her. Javier caught Yuzuru’s eye and smiles. Yuzuru looked away.

Kanako sprayed ice at him as she came to a stop next to him, grinning. She leant on the rink wall casually.

“So.”

“What?”

“So, what’s going on with you?”

Yuzuru frowned, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“You and Javi. What’s going on?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Yuzuru said, feigning complete innocence.

“Sure,” Kanako shifts closer, keeping their conversation private. “You two are always all over each other but lately you look at him like you want to eat him and he looks at you like he’s about to let you. What happened?”

Yuzuru tried to hide just quite how alarmed he was, desperately hoping his expression remained neutral.

He had thought they were both doing a good job of not changing their behaviour much. He thought they had maintained some normality. Yuzuru was mingling nicely with everyone, Javier was having fun, being his usual social self. They weren’t avoiding each other by any stretch of the imagination, but they also were not attached at the hip. Maybe they exchanged glances every now and again, or the touches that were so familiar between them lingered a little more than they used to. But Yuzuru hadn’t thought they had been acting in any way unusual. He had been initially concerned that there would be awkwardness between them, it was a relief that there was none.

“Even if something did happen, I wouldn’t tell you. You’re the biggest gossip I knew, half of Japan would know in five minutes.”

Kanako sniffed, unconvinced. “I can keep secrets.”

“Sure,” Yuzuru rolled his eyes.

“Anyway,” Kanako grinned.  “Now I know something _did_ happen, and you are letting my imagination run wild.”

Yuzuru grimaced at her. “You can imagine whatever you want so long as you don’t say anything to anyone about it.”

Kanako leans in closer, eyes shining, clearly enjoying herself. Tormenting Yuzuru was up near the top of her list of things she loved to do.

“Did you confess?” She asked gleefully.

“No.”

“Did he confess to you?”

Yuzuru frowned. “No.”

She drops her voice to a whisper, “Did you have sex?”

“Kana!” Yuzuru swats at her. “No.”

Kanako laughed raucously, thoroughly enjoying Yuzuru’s embarrassment. “So, you kissed, right?”

“Shut up.”

Kanako gasped, delighted, clapping her hands together. “Oh my God, really? Did he kiss you?”

“No.”

“You kissed him?”

“Kana! Shut up!” Yuzuru whined.

Kanako laughed ecstatically, pushing off from the wall and twirling in front of Yuzuru, grabbing his hands. “Yuzu! I’m so proud of you!”

“Nothing happened,” Yuzuru lied, face growing warmer. Stupid face always stupid blushing.

“You are so red,” Kanako cooed, pinching Yuzuru’s cheeks. He swatted her hands away, nose wrinkling.

He can’t be annoyed at her, though. Not when she was smiling like that. Kanako’ smile had always been infectious. Even when she was being a pain, she had a way of making the people around her feel good. Even when she teased Yuzuru, he always felt like he was taken along with the joke.

“Don’t say anything to anyone,” Yuzuru told her. “Understand. Not even Javi. You say nothing.”

She nodded, a little sullen. “I promise. Now tell me all about it?”

“No way.”

 

Kanako was, truthfully, someone Yuzuru felt he could trust. She was a gossip, she loved to know what was going on with everyone and loved to talk, but she understood where the boundaries were. She understood what couldn’t be shared, what kinds of things were harmful.

“Have you ever kissed a girl?” Kanako asked him.

They were 15, at a training camp. Their activities for the day were over; she was sat cross-legged on the floor of Yuzuru’s dorm room while the other boys played football outside. Yuzuru couldn’t play without aggravating his asthma, so she was keeping him company. She, being a teenage girl, had been digging for as many details of Yuzuru’s life as she could think of.

“No.”

“Why not?”

Yuzuru had shrugged at her.

“Are there any girls you like at school?”

Yuzuru had thought about it for a moment. “No.”

“None?”

Yuzuru shrugged again. “I’m just not really interested. Some girls are pretty, but I’m just...not interested.”

“What about boys?”

Yuzuru had tried to act cool, deny it, but had flushed. There was a boy in his class he was friends with that he, embarrassingly, had harboured a crush for. He knew nothing would come of it, but he was perfectly happy with that. It was just a harmless little crush, no big deal.  
He stupidly opened his mouth wordlessly and closed it again. Like a goldfish.

Kanako’s eyes went a little wide as the realisation hit her. “Oh.”

“I-I...don’t tell anyone!” Yuzuru flustered.

She had nodded her head, smiling at him reassuringly.

“Of course. I won’t tell anyone.”

 

To his knowledge, she never had.

 

Even though he trusted her, he felt like it was best that no one knew what had happened. With his public image exploding they way it had, he wanted to have some privacy. He needed some secrets.

It was also nice to hold the moment close to his chest and keep it to himself. Something between just himself and Javier. No one else needed to be involved.

As Yuzuru skated away from Kanako, who called after him that he was no fun, he couldn’t help but think back to that dark corner in the locker room, after everyone else had left, where it was quiet, and no one was there to disturb them. Or stop them.

 

Yuzuru had been so happy, so overwhelmed, he didn’t have it in him to think. He didn’t have it in him to hold himself back or worry about what would happen. His arms around Javier’s neck, Yuzuru had closed his eyes and kissed him.

It had been weird for a moment. Javier froze and was oddly passive and unresponsive. Yuzuru had feared he had done the wrong thing, that the peck on the lips in Sochi had been an accident, that all the touches and sweet comments were purely friendly, that he had completely misread the way Javier looked at him.

Yuzuru had pulled away, hastily reading Javier’s expression to see if he was angry or disgusted, ready to apologise.  
Javier hadn’t been angry. He hadn’t been disgusted. He had merely been a little surprised. As soon as Yuzuru pulled back, Javier had pulled him close again to kiss him in return.

He didn’t remember much from the kiss, other than his brain had completely disengaged the second he closed his eyes. He had just let himself feel, let himself just be lost in the moment. He only knew he liked it. He remembered holding Javier’s face, feeling the squareness of his jaw, rubbing his thumb against Javier’s cheek, feeling the slight roughness of barely emerging stubble. He remembered slipping his hands into Javier’s hair and stroking at the short curls. He remembered the first touch of Javier’s tongue against his own, the soft muffled sound he had made against Javier’s mouth, the way his back hit the wall as Javier kissed him deeper.

 

Yuzuru slapped his cheeks, embarrassed from his reverie. He skated somewhat aimlessly around the rink for a while, not pushing himself, but not giving Kanako another opportunity to bug him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Javier watching him.

 

Returning to Canada felt like returning to normal life. In Japan, Yuzuru felt he could barely get through a day without seeing his face somewhere or being recognised or hearing his name mentioned on TV. There was a strange shift in the ice shows where it felt, just a little more, that he was the main event, rather than just another part of the cast.

“You’ve always been pretty popular,” Mao pointed out when he had been somewhat baffled by the response he was getting. “You just won the Olympics, you’re cute, of course everyone’s going crazy for you.”

 

It was good to get away from the craziness and just focus on school and training again. Going back to Canada meant fewer distractions.

Fewer distractions meant the fatigue finally started to hit Yuzuru. He had been riding a high since the World Championships, back in Canada was where he crashed. He had to force himself back into his routine. He knew that he couldn’t take an extended break from training without in impacting the upcoming season, but he felt physically, mentally and socially exhausted.

 

“Last season was a lot. It’s okay to take it easy for a while,” Brain patted Yuzuru’s shoulder. “As long as you show up and do something, it’s okay to take it easy if you need to. You don’t have to push yourself every day. Listen to your body if it’s telling you to slow down.”

Yuzuru didn’t want to slow down. He wanted to get back into his routine, but it felt like he was trying to wade through tar. Forcing himself to get out of bed was an effort, warming up was a chore, getting on the ice and doing his training felt like torture. He knew it would pass, he knew it would only last a few weeks at most, but fighting through the fatigue felt like it would last forever.

 

Yuzuru reached up, stretching out his back, and let out a deep breath, bringing his hands down to touch the floor, head almost touching his knees. Straightening himself, he calmly moved to his next set of stretches. Gently warming up and loosening his back, shoulders, hips, hamstrings...

“How long can you hold a plank for?”

“Longer than you,” Yuzuru grinned at Nam.

“Wanna bet?”

Yuzuru rolls his shoulders, heading to the mat next to where Nam was doing his own warm-up routine.

“Sure, loser buys ice cream.”

“You’re on.”

 

Nam was a young Canadian skater who was about to move up to seniors. Yuzuru liked him, even if they didn’t typically see a lot of each other. He tended to talk a lot, a bit too fast and using a lot more slang than Yuzuru was used to, making it hard to keep up with him, but he had an infectious energy and made Yuzuru laugh. They did a weekly dance class together, to help with rhythm, timing and to get Yuzuru to tighten up his upper-body movements. Nam would, nicely, laugh whenever Yuzuru got too floppy and never got mad when Yuzuru lost his balance mid-step and went crashing into him. He reminded Yuzuru a little of Nobu, with how reliably he would laugh at even the lamest of Yuzuru’s jokes.

 

Yuzuru smiled cooly as they faced each other, holding their bodies parallel to the ground.

“Your face is red.”

Nam spluttered at Yuzuru. “How is yours not?”

“What are you doing?”

 

Yuzuru almost lost concentration and dropped to the floor when he heard Javier’s voice, accent a little thicker from his trip home. Yuzuru wanted to look at him, but could, at best, only look at his ankles as he stood next to where his mat.

 

“Nam made bet. Who can hold longer,” Yuzuru answered, the lack of strain in his voice seemingly annoying Nam, who was huffing out breathes into his mat.

“How long have you been going?”

“Maybe two minutes?”

Javier laughed. “Give it up, Nam. Yuzu beats _me_ at stuff like this.”

Nam promptly flopped onto his side. Yuzuru carefully shifts out of position, up onto his knees.

“When you come back?”

“A few days ago.”

“I thought you stay in Spain longer?” Yuzuru stood up, raising his arms to stretch out his back.

Javier pretends to pout. “And here I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

Yuzuru smacked Javier’s shoulder lightly.

“Of course I’m happy. I missed you.”

Nam sat up on his mat, wiggling his toes. “Did you get us anything?”

Javier pulled a face at him. “No.”

Nam sulked.

“You got a tan,” Yuzuru said, running a finger up Javier’s arm, the golden brown contrasting his pale skin. Yuzuru had always been pale; he hated whenever he tanned, it didn’t look right on him. It looked good on Javier, though.

“Yeah, a little. You like it?”

Yuzuru nodded, meeting Javier’s eyes. “Very handsome.”

Javier was always handsome, but with the glow from where the sun had kissed his skin and his hair a little longer than the last time Yuzuru had seen him, he seemed even more so. A flirty smile played on Javier’s lips; one Yuzuru couldn’t resist returning.

“Ugh, get a room,” Nam retorted, hauling himself up from the floor. “I’m gonna hit the ice before Brian thinks we’ve staged a revolt.”

Javier swatted at him as he left. Yuzuru could only laugh.

 

It was good, to have a routine, even if it was tiring. Every day had the same beats; off-ice training, on-ice training, study, image training, sleep. Training split up into a regular schedule; conditioning, spins, steps, jumps. Get the choreography, get every step, every transition, written into muscle memory, then work on the jumps.  
On rest days, Yuzuru tended to want to do something to feel productive, like studying. Or going over his notes to track his progress and see if he needed to give extra attention to something specific in the next training session. But it was also his time to relax, play games, catch up with tv shows from home his friends were watching, video call his family.

He liked being at the rink, whether it be just on the ice with his coaches, or with Nam goofing off, or skating side-by-side with Javier.

It wasn’t as if they shared the ice every day; often Yuzuru got there earlier that Javier and would leave before Javier finished, or would have a private session while Javier was training in group. There was overlap, times they finished together or started together, but it was limited.  
There was a balance; when they had overlap, it was more relaxed. They spent more time laughing and joking or competitively trying to one-up each other in some way. When Javier or Nam weren’t there, Yuzuru he was a little more focused, quieter. If he didn’t have the sessions with friends, he felt he would over-think a lot more. The times they skated together kept him grounded, but he didn’t need to be surrounded by friends every day.

Yuzuru enjoyed the quiet of his bedroom too; he liked being left alone to do whatever he needed or wanted to do. He needed that time alone, especially after weeks of being in Japan where it seemed every time he was outside his hotel room or away from home he was performing in some way for someone. Even if he was being true to himself in front of cameras, it was natural to slip into a persona, and it was draining to keep it up. Afterwards, he always needed time alone, to recharge. Gradually, it seemed he needed that alone time more

He knew he needed the social time too. He needed that time to be with people he could talk with and not feel like he was giving a performance. He needed those moments where the weight on his shoulders seemed to lift, and he could laugh.

Those moments seemed to become harder and harder to reach.

  
It was different to the pressure of the previous season when Yuzuru had felt like he was being pushed forwards by some great force. He had become overwhelmed by the need to prove himself, the fear of failure and the feverish voices of media and fans hyping him up and knocking him down in equal measure.

It was more of a quiet expectation that rose from all sides and swallowed him slowly. He wanted to keep the momentum he had built last season, and show growth, push himself to be better, to keep all the titles he won last season, to stay ahead of the pack. He was a champion now, he was expected to live up to the growing reputation that came with that.

 

Yuzuru huffed as he sat himself up after his fifth fall in a row. He brushed himself off and hauled himself up. 

Falling was a fact of life. He was very, very used to the fact that when training jumps he was going to fall, and he would fall a lot. Most days he could laugh, smile, get up and go again. He could feel what was wrong with the jump - not enough speed, too much speed, a hesitation or catching an edge on the take-off, going off axis or a hundred other things that were the difference between a good jump and a bad jump or an outright fall. Usually, he’d consider this and try to correct for his next attempt, and try and try until he got it, and then try again until he had more successfully landed attempts. He would get the picture of the jump in his head, how the run up should look and feel, he should move, the speed he needed to reach and how the air should feel against him, how his feet and legs should move and feel as he takes off and rotates and lands. And he would try to meet that image, get a feel for the jump, replicate that image over and over, and then improve further.

That day, it just wasn’t happening. There was always something off; a stiffness in his muscles, an overcorrection, a rapidly building frustration that was leading to more problems.

Instead of going over to talk to Brian for whatever he could see was going wrong, Yuzuru slipped back into the series of transitional steps from his free program that lead to the quad salchow and tried again. Impatient, annoyed, he went up into the air...and crashed down onto the ice for a sixth consecutive time. Irritated, Yuzuru snarled and got up again.

And again.

And again.

 

Yuzuru didn’t mean to slam his locker, but he was frustrated. He couldn’t help it.

He sat down on one of the benches, slipping on his shoes, tying the laces a little more aggressively than he intended. He knew he would sleep it off, start the next day fresh, make the next practice better. That didn’t make the tension in his shoulders go away, though. The bad practice would weigh on him for the rest of the day.

Javier plonked down next to him, nudging Yuzuru lightly with his shoulder.

“You okay?”

Yuzuru sighed, rolling his neck before looking at Javier with a dissatisfied grimace. “I love quad sal but today quad sal don’t love me.”

Javier snorted. Yuzuru shoved him, not truly annoyed but also not feeling all that playful.

“It not funny! I should be getting better, not worse!”

Javier stopped laughing, but the amusement didn’t leave his face. “You’re getting better, just having a bad practice.”

Yuzuru turned his attention back to his shoes. He knew that, but it was a small comfort to hear it out loud.

“Do you have plans?” Javier asked.

Yuzuru shook his head, “Just study. Why?”

“Let’s hang out instead.” Javier suggested, “It’s a nice day out. We can go to the park,”

He turned abruptly to call out behind them, “Hey, Nam, you have your football?”

“Yeah?” Nam’s muffled voice came from inside his locker.

“Want to have a kick around with me and Yuzu?”

Nam stuck his head out, looking at the two of them, eyes shining and eager.

“Sure.”

“I can’t play soccer,” Yuzuru mumbled unhappily. “Not after practice.”

“Not a game, just messing around,” Javier told him. “You can rest if you need to.”

“Come on, Yuzu,” Nam pleaded, coming around to where Yuzuru was sat so he could use the full force of his best puppy-dog eyes, “Please.”

“Fine,” Yuzuru huffed, digging his phone out of his bag. “I text my mom.”

Javier shot Nam a thumbs up.

 

Yuzuru couldn’t lie, going to the park did raise his mood significantly, no matter how reluctant he had been. He laughed as Nam valiantly chased after Javier, trying to get the ball from him, as Javier dribbled the ball around the patch of grass they had claimed for his own. Javier was seemingly just too good and would playfully let Nam take the ball for a second, then immediately claim it back, switch direction and keep the ball moving from foot to foot before Nam could get at it again.

He joined in when they started a little keepy-uppy competition, although football had never been his thing. He clapped as Javier showed off all the little tricks he knew and tried to copy, failing miserably and almost tripping as the ball lamely flicked behind him, Nam laughing raucously at his attempt. Javier’s arms came around his waist as if to keep him upright, his chest pressed against Yuzuru’s back so he could feel the laughter rumble from him. Yuzuru wanted to turn, press his face into Javier’s neck, but he didn’t.

After a while, they winded down, lay on their backs in the grass, enjoying the sun. Yuzuru pressed his arms against Javier’s comparing the tan skin to his own. 

“Aw man, I have to go. I have a butt-load of homework, my mum will kill me if I blow it off,” Nam whined, rolling onto his front before getting up and tucking the ball under his arm.

“Thanks for playing with me,” Yuzuru grinned at him.

“You feel better?”

“Yeah.”

Nam nodded and smiled, “Good. Well, see you guys tomorrow, probably.”

“Have fun with your homework,” Javier teased, prompting a rude hand gesture in response that made Yuzuru snigger.

They stayed lay in the grass as Nam walked away. Yuzuru closed his eyes for a moment and took in a deep breath, listening to the breeze ruffling through the trees.

 

When he opened his eyes, Javier had moved a little closer, rolled onto his side to look at him.

“You’re stressed again lately, huh?”

Yuzuru looked up at him and nodded silently. It wasn’t as bad as last summer, but it was there, quietly building in the back of his mind.

“Want to talk about it?”

Yuzuru shrugged.

“Summer’s only just started,” Javier reminded him. “You’re not going to fall apart from one bad practice. There’s loads of time to improve your sal.”

“Yeah,” Yuzuru looked up at the leaves overhead. “Is just my head. I hate when I’m not perfect.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I know, but is annoying. Practice time is important. I’m lucky to practice every day. Shouldn’t be wasting with bad practice.” Yuzuru said sharply.

He paused, looking at Javier a little apologetically and softening his voice. “I want to be better than last season.”

“You’ve made progress. You’ll make more before the season starts.”

“I’m just…” Yuzuru huffed, struggling to find the word he needed. His English had improved over the years, but he still often found himself reaching for words that weren’t there, never quite able to express himself as efficiently as he could. “I just want it fast.”

“You can’t rush it though, that’s how you get injured.”

“I know,” Yuzuru said. “Is just...media is so noisy now. Fans more noisy. My head too. I think, how can I be better than last season? I won a lot, but I have regret.”

“This is why so many Olympic medalists retire after the games,” Javier mused, plucking a blade of grass from the ground and toying with it for a moment. “It’s hard to not see that as your peak.”

“I don’t want quit. I can do more but people look at me and excited for what I do next,” Yuzuru let out a slow breath. “So I have to do big thing, right?”

“Not really,”

Javier shrugged, and Yuzuru knew he was right. He skated for himself, not really for other people. He didn’t owe anyone anything. He was continuing because he wanted to, not because he had to. He wanted to keep moving forwards, keep increasing the difficulty of his programs, but he didn’t owe it to anyone but himself.

Javier lightly trailed the blade of grass up Yuzuru’s arm. It tickled, like a bug running across his skin. Javier’s eyes seemed to follow the path of the grass. Yuzuru squirmed, nose wrinkling in annoyance, and swatted him away.

“After practice, what do you usually do?” Javier asked, looking back up to Yuzuru’s face.

“Study.”

Javier rolled his eyes, as if the answer was obvious. “Then?”

“Dance class. Or yoga. Or muscle training,” Yuzuru shrugged. “Depends on the day.”

“After that?” Javier asked again.

“Study. Go on internet maybe.” Yuzuru could see that Javier was going to press him again, so spoke quickly to cut him off. “Then image train then sleep. Why?”

“This,” Javier started, going back to trailing the grass up Yuzuru’s arm. “-is your problem. What do you do to relax? No wonder you get so wound up.”

“I play game,” Yuzuru argued, “I talk to friends.”

“When?”

Yuzuru swatted the grass away from his arm. “When I want.”

“You need to give your brain more time to switch off.”

“But I have stuff to do,” Yuzuru said sulkily.

“You can still do it,” Javier shrugged, getting a longer blade of grass to annoy Yuzuru with. “But you are allowed to slack off every now and again. Study less one day, relax a bit more. Spend time with friends. Do something fun.”

“I do!”

“Not enough.” 

Javier dragged the blade of grass up Yuzuru’s neck, to his jaw, across his cheek. He let it fall from his hand, opting instead to use the barest tip of his finger to brush just under Yuzuru’s bottom lip.

Yuzuru felt his heart jump. He wanted to reach up, touch Javier’s face, put a hand to the back of his head, lift himself up and kiss him. He wondered if that thought was written all over his face, the way it seemed to be written all over Javier’s.

A child’s distant screech of laughter broke the spell. They were out in public, where anyone could see them. Yuzuru scooted away and sat up, turning his head away. He looked down at the grass. He was stupid, to forget his surroundings like that.

“My apartment isn’t far from here,” Javier grabbed Yuzuru’s hand, tugging him up as he rose to his feet.

Yuzuru looked at him, surprised and a little confused. Javier simply smiled and tilted his head to gesture at the path behind him.

“Come on.”

 

Javier’s apartment was familiar, comfortable. It was a little tidier than the last time Yuzuru had visited, though still had the disorganised, lived-in feeling Yuzuru was accustomed to. He often found himself absent-mindedly tidying things whenever he hung out in Javier’s apartment, not because he thought it was messy but out of habit. Yuzuru was the type to have a place for everything and instinctively put everything into place, while Javier tended to just put things down without thinking. Yuzuru was the type to fold his clothes when he got changed, while Javier seemed to throw his clothes wherever and worry about it later.

He sat on the sofa, melting into the cushions. He always felt comfortable in Javier’s home, more so than when he visited other friends’ homes. He didn’t feel like he had to act like a guest.

Javier sat beside him and cleared his throat a little awkwardly.

Yuzuru knew what was coming. He had been expecting it. He was partially anxious about how the conversation would play out and relieved they were finally getting around to talking about the recent turn their relationship had taken.

“I wanted to talk to you privately,” Javier said, looking down at his hands briefly, then up at Yuzuru. If he was nervous, it didn’t show. “About what happened at Worlds.”

Yuzuru nodded. Javier sat back, more comfortable, body twisting towards Yuzuru to face him as much as possible.

“We were both in Japan but…”

“Not right time. Not right place,” Yuzuru nodded again. He thought about Kanako, her questions, the way her eyes would not-so-subtly cling to him whenever Javier was around him. “Too many...nosey people.” He paused, thinking of the cameras that showed up in numbers at every ice show, the reporters that were a nearly constantly present. “Too many media.”

“Right!” Javier smiles, glad Yuzuru understood why they hadn’t talked before. “It’s a little safer here.”

Yuzuru smiled. Safer was the word. He could walk around in Canada without people taking a second glance at him and staring wherever he went or coming up to talk to him.

He thought about the fears he had, in the time between Worlds and the ice shows they had both attended, and how quickly they had been dispelled once they saw each other again.

“I’m happy...we not strange.”

“Yeah, I was a bit worried things would be weird,” Javier nodded. It was a relief that he had shared some of Yuzuru’s concerns.

 

Yuzuru looked down at his knees, unable to stop himself from thinking back to the kiss one more time. Javier’s mouth against his, the warmth of his body under Yuzuru’s hands, the heat of his breath against Yuzuru’s cheek before they broke apart from each other.

 

“Did you like it?”

“Yeah, I liked it.” Javier murmured.

Yuzuru felt a shiver of pleasure at that. He assumed if Javier had hated it, he would have known, but it was nice to get the confirmation.

“Did you?” Javier asked.

“Of course I like…” Yuzuru could feel himself begin to blush. “I-I want to kiss you again.”

“I’d...like that,” Javier reached out and touched Yuzuru’s hand, prompting him to look back up.

“I like you, Yuzu.”

 

Yuzuru instantly felt giddy. He bit his lips as he smiled, trying not to giggle from the happiness that sprang up within him. “I like you too.”

“But it’s a little…”

“...yeah.”

Complicated. It was certainly complicated, that was not lost on Yuzuru. They were friends, rink mates but also competitors and rivals. That was already tricky to balance.

“I thought about it a lot lately. What to do about this. But I think it’s okay,” Javier said, nodding to himself. “If we just have fun together, while we can.”

He looked at Yuzuru a little cautiously as if he was worried Yuzuru would reject him.

“Would you like that?”

 

Yuzuru didn’t fully understand what Javier meant. He wasn’t really great with euphemisms or more subtle suggestions in English, where you had to decode what the person really meant, what they really wanted. Even in Japanese, Yuzuru tended to prefer being straightforward with what he wanted. Leaving things up to interpretation opened the door to misunderstandings. He could understand, though, why there was some shyness in saying outright what they wanted in this situation. It was a delicate topic. Did he want to have fun with Javier? Definitely, whatever that entailed. It seemed natural they wouldn’t want to immediately say they would date and place that kind of pressure on their changing relationship, given the already complicated nature of their friendship. But Yuzuru was all for opening that door and seeing how things would develop.

 

“I would like that.”

Javier broke out into a smile. “Really?”

Yuzuru nodded, grinning. His skin seemed to tingle with excitement.

He wanted this, so badly. He almost wanted to pinch himself to make sure he hadn’t dozed off on his desk at home but thought that would spoil the mood a bit.

Javier shifted, bringing a hand to Yuzuru’s cheek. He stroked lightly with his thumb; brown eyes lit up with the same excitement that was running rampant through Yuzuru.

“So, it’s okay if I kiss you now, right?”

Yuzuru laughed a little and nodded.

 

In the locker room in Japan, Yuzuru had kissed Javier impulsively. It had been a little too hard, fast, a little desperate. Sat on the sofa, Javier kissed Yuzuru gently. He could feel the smile that played on Javier’s lips as they brushed against his own, felt them soften. He closed his eyes, enjoying the slow, soft kisses Javier pressed against his mouth, meeting each one as they grew longer, slower. Any tension he still held in his body seemed to melt away. His hand instinctively finding Javier’s shoulder.

Javier pressed their foreheads together briefly, before catching Yuzuru’s lips again, kissing him longer, deeper. He focused on the way their lips clung to each other, the way they moved together, the moist drag as Javier adjusted the angle. It was chaste, exploring, Javier’s hand cupping his jaw, his own curling against Javier’s thigh.

Time seemed to stand still. The world slipped away. Nothing else mattered.

 

It was something that got added to Yuzuru’s routine. Not every day, but a few times a week he would head to Javier’s apartment to ‘hang out’. Sometimes it was with Nam after practice to play video games or football in the park, but often it was just the two of them. Javier gently pulled Yuzuru into his attempts to learn how to cook, squinting at recipes Yuzuru couldn’t read and clumsily translating instructions, laughing when something didn’t turn out quite right. They watched movies together, or bad tv either in English or strange Spanish dramas with bad acting where Yuzuru had no idea what was happening but had fun guessing or making things up.

Other times they just talked or enjoyed comfortable silences. Yuzuru sprawled out on the floor playing with Javier’s cat while Javier put away groceries, or he’d bring his laptop to study casually while Javier read a book and talked in little bursts of idle chatter, simply enjoying being around each other for a while, not doing anything in particular.

All of which was bracketed with touches and kisses, all the little things they couldn’t do when they were at the rink or out in public. It was something they grew more comfortable with as soon as they entered the safe zone of Javier’s apartment. Soft kisses on the sofa during ad breaks, Yuzuru resting his head on Javier’s lap afterwards as he tried to follow whatever was going on in the drama they were watching. Damp, giggly kisses after Yuzuru had gotten bored of cleaning their dishes after eating and flicked water at Javier. Heated kisses, with Yuzuru’s back against the wall, fingers curling in Javier’s hair.

There was a lightness to it, as they experimented with what the other responded to, what they liked, how far they were comfortable going. Yuzuru giggled nervously into every kiss the first time Javier had guided him to his bed. Yuzuru had ruined the mood temporarily the first time they took off each other’s shirts by delicately folding Javier’s before setting it aside, making Javier laugh. Javier had taken the edge off, the first time he kissed down Yuzuru’s body by blowing a raspberry against his navel.

There was a sense of intimacy between them that they hadn't really had before. It was something Yuzuru hadn't had with any other person. The feeling of completely letting his guard down, of being free to do or say whatever he wanted - within reason. If Yuzuru wanted to touch Javier, he could. If he wanted to kiss, he could. If he wanted to cuddle or joke or tease, he could. All in the safety of their little bubble. Javier's apartment - his arms, his presence - were a kind of safe haven for Yuzuru. He could explore what it meant to like someone in a romantic sense, to have a friendship with them while cultivating a romantic relationship with them. He could explore his sexuality, something he hadn't really done much before out of fear or the consequences. It almost felt like those consequences couldn't reach him, not while he was with Javier. He could trust Javier. No one needed to know and there were few ways anyone could find out.

Yuzuru was holding something back. Some part of himself. No one really had all of him.  
But he was willing to give all of himself to Javier.

 

Yuzuru ran his thumb along Javier’s jaw, against the grain of short hair there from Javier’s lack of will to shave the past few days. He liked the way it felt. Javier tilted his head to give Yuzuru better access, not really paying attention to him yet as he typed rapid little messages to his mother, who had popped up on his social media demanding updates.

“She’s mad because I always promise to call her and forget to,” Javier explained as if it bothered Yuzuru at all that he needed a moment to chat with his family.

Yuzuru scooted closer, dropping his hand to Javier’s shoulder. He didn’t want to disturb him but was feeling a little curious. He placed his lips where his fingers had been, not kissing, but just lightly brushing over the stubble. Javier hummed in approval.

“I’m all scratchy, sorry.”

Yuzuru laughed a little, briefly letting his cheek slide against Javier’s before sitting back a little. “I like it.”

Javier shot him an amused glance. “Really?”

Yuzuru nodded.

“Feels nice,” he couldn’t resist stroking his thumb against it again. “Looks handsome.”

“Want me to grow it out?”

Yuzuru hummed in thought. “You could. If you want. I like smooth face too.”

Javier eyes him, smirking a little. “Maybe you should let yours grow too.”

Yuzuru snorts. “Let what grow? I don’t have.”

Javier sniggered, “You have a little.”

“I’d look stupid,” Yuzuru grimaces, hitting Javier’s shoulder lightly.

“Yeah, you would.”

Yuzuru sniffs, “I’m pretty type, not handsome type.”

Javier laughs.

“Yes, you are very pretty,” He puts down his laptop, turning to press a kiss against Yuzuru’s soft, smooth, hairless cheek.

“Beautiful,” Another kiss, closer to his mouth. “Gorgeous.”

Yuzuru looked at Javier through heavy-lidded eyes. A little embarrassed. Very pleased.

“Sexy,” Javier punctuated the word with a peck on Yuzuru’s lips.

“I’m not sexy.”

“Sure you are,” Javier sits back, picking his laptop back up. “You should see yourself in your training gear.”

Yuzuru’s cheeks turned pink. “You look at me in _training_?”

Javier looked at him funny. “Of course I do. How have you not noticed?”

 

It was something that Yuzuru found himself thinking about next time they were together at training, Javier’s hand on his waist as Yuzuru leant back against his chest, both listening to instructions from Brian. When they skated away to resume their practice, Yuzuru could feel the way Javier’s eyes would follow the lines of his body. He wondered if it was apparent to others that they knew each other’s bodies now in a way friends typically don’t.

They lay on Javier’s bed, shirts somewhere on the floor, lips feeling tender from kisses. Yuzuru nuzzled against Javier’s shoulder lazily, enjoying the way Javier’s fingertips were stroking through his hair. A trivial little thought popped into his mind, something he usually avoided talking about, but with Javier, nothing seemed out of bounds.

 

“You like boys?” Yuzuru asked, hand resting lazily on Javier’s bare stomach.

Javier laughed breathily, but he didn't answer immediately. Instead, he let a silence hang between them before quietly confessing. “Yeah. I like guys”

“But you had girlfriend.”

Javier’s fingers still for a moment.

“Yeah,” he said lightly, seeming relaxed. “I like both.”

“The same?”

“Sorta. I guess I like girls more, usually.” Javier shrugged.

 

Yuzuru thought for a moment. He wondered what it must be like, to be attracted to both. He recognised when girls were pretty, there were girls he enjoyed looking at, but he had never felt the way he did looking at Javier, being with him, when it came to girls. There was nothing left for Yuzuru to figure out in that regard. It was something he had known for a long time but had never really said out loud.

“I think I only like boys.”

Javier merely hummed as if Yuzuru had told him something mundane, like the weather. “Does your family know?”

“Maybe. We don’t talk about it.” Yuzuru's fingers traced whimsical patterns against Javier's stomach. He liked watching the muscles twitch if he strayed too close to his hip. "What about you?" 

"I haven't told my family. Never had a reason to," Javier said, sounding slightly detached. “What about friends?”

“Kana know. A few other. If they ask, they already know so I don’t have to lie, but I don’t tell...It’s not big thing. No one’s business.” Yuzuru shrugged. “Too many people know can be problem.” He paused, maybe Javier wouldn’t understand, Europe seemed so much more relaxed about these things. “In Japan is big problem.”

“Yeah,” Javier sighed. “It could be a big problem for me too. Maybe not as bad as it would be for you.”

“Is why I don’t...be with boy before.” Yuzuru admitted, a little embarrassed, though he had assumed his lack of experience was something Javier had picked up on.

“Never?” Javier asked, surprised.

“Only kiss. Only once.”

 

It had been in high school, with a boy in another class. They had been doing homework together in the boy’s room; his mother headed out for groceries leaving them alone for an hour or so. They had sat on the bed, the boy suddenly abandoning his school work as soon has he heard his mother leave and nervously confessing to Yuzuru.

Yuzuru hadn’t rejected him immediately, letting the boy kiss him; too excited that there was someone interested in him to really think it through. It had been clumsy and enthusiastic, both of them too eager, too excited. It was only when the boy’s hand had slipped up Yuzuru’s school shirt that they had stopped. Fear had hit Yuzuru suddenly and hard. What if the boy’s mother came back and caught them fooling around? What if she told his parents? What if she told anyone else? It had been just before Yuzuru made the move to senior competitions, media interest in him hadn’t been piqued yet, but it was still there in the back of his head. He had already been on tv a few times. There was enough to hold him back.

“I can’t,” he had told the boy, on the edge of panic. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. He just had too much to lose.

They never studied together again after that.

 

“Too busy with skating and school. Also too…”

“Risky.” Javier nodded grimly. “Yeah, that’s why I don’t date guys.”

Yuzuru looked up at him, raising his eyebrows.

“Well, obviously, you’re special,” Javier chuckled, ruffling Yuzuru’s hair.

Yuzuru felt a fluttering in the pit of his stomach, smiling into Javier’s collarbone. There was a faint twang of sadness. He was so comfortable, so happy, being with Javier like this; having a person he could be completely himself with, having someone he didn’t have to hide anything from. It was a shame he had to hide at least this one part of himself from so many people. Even if it was something he considered rather insignificant. Even if it was something that had no bearing on any other part of his life or personality, it was part of him, and it was a pity he had to hide something that made him as happy as being with Javier.

“I wish it not a problem.”

“Me too,” Javier said softly. “But what can we do. At least we have now.”

 

Yuzuru’s mother had, of course, noticed that Yuzuru was heading out with increased frequency. Mostly, she was glad and encouraged Yuzuru to spend more time with friends from the rink. Whenever he told her he was going to play some game of sport with Javier and Nam and whoever else from the rink that got dragged along, she would smile happily and remind him not to stay out too late. He was almost an adult, and none of his other responsibilities were slipping. He still talked to her animatedly about training, noisily bounced around in his bedroom at night image training, and in discussions with Brian and Tracy was assured that Yuzuru was training hard and making good progress. He seemed happy, they told her, focused but also enjoying himself. He wasn’t falling behind with his schoolwork either. It was a relief that he had found a balance between skating, school and socialising - something she feared he would struggle to do in Canada.

“Ma! I’m going to Javi’s for a bit!” Yuzuru called out as he exited his room and headed straight to the shoe cupboard.

“Um, it’s a little late to be going out.” She frowned, standing up to follow him.

“It’s okay, if it gets too late I’ll sleep there, I’ll message you,” Yuzuru said coolly as if that wasn’t his intention all along. He could see something in his mother’s eyes, a glimmer of suspicion.

“You’re scheduled for training in the morning though, aren’t you?”

“It’s fine; I have some spare training clothes at the rink, he can lend me a t-shirt,” Yuzuru shrugged.

She thinned her lips, not liking it but, really, what could she do? He wasn’t a child anymore.

“Well, okay…” She hesitated, a little uncomfortable. “You’re spending a lot of time with Javi lately.”

Yuzuru froze, one shoe half-way on his foot. He slipped in the rest of the way on and stood up.

“Yeah, well, he’s my friend.”

He looked away hastily and started putting on his other shoe. He could sense there was something his mother wanted to say but was holding herself back. She patted his shoulder lightly.

“I’m glad for you,” she said slowly with a weak smile. “Just, be careful, okay?”

Yuzuru flashed her a smile, grabbing a jacket before he headed out. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I’ll message you in the morning, okay?”

He slipped out the door before she could say anything else.

 

Yuzuru closed his eyes, back arching slightly against the mattress when Javier’s hands slid up his bare thigh. When Javier mouthed at his neck, he obligingly tipped his head back, hands curling over Javier’s shoulders. The warm curl of arousal at Javier’s touch was familiar now, but there was a buzz of added excitement and anticipation that seemed to make Yuzuru more receptive than usual, more aware of Javier’s body moving with his, the hands on his body.

“Are you sure?” Javier whispered roughly into his ear.

Yuzuru nodded. “Please.”

 

They had, somewhat, planned for this after Yuzuru, the master of subtly he was, blurted his thoughts on the subject out a week earlier.

Javier had been reading a magazine, occasionally pausing to tell Yuzuru some interesting or funny point in whatever article he was reading. The hand he wasn’t using to turn the pages was covering Yuzuru’s, thumb stroking over Yuzuru’s knuckles.  
Yuzuru had intended to amuse himself with his phone or something until Javier was done reading, but instead found himself quite content just watching him. He watched the way his eyes scanned the pages slowly, the way his lips would occasionally mouth the words on the page, the little expression that flickered across his face, the way he’d lick his finger before turning the page.

“I want to have sex with you.”

Javier had stopped what he was doing and looked at him abruptly.  
“I-- okay.” He blinked, a little taken aback by the sudden declaration. Yuzuru was also a little surprised by the words that had seemed to come out of his mouth at their own will.

Javier put the magazine down on his lap.

“Now?”

Yuzuru spluttered, face turning bright red. “No!”

Javier had laughed and closed the magazine. “Okay, let’s talk about this.”

 

It wasn’t the first time they had been naked together on Javier’s bed, not the first time they had kissed like this with Javier above him, not the first time they touched each other. It wasn’t entirely foreign territory to have his thighs on either side of Javier’s hips, to have his hands twisting in the sheets as Javier brought both of their bodies to climax. He had touched Javier’s body before, tasted it, felt how good they could make each other feel. He liked touching Javier - feeling the pull of muscle beneath warm skin, seeing pleasure grow with every touch and kiss. He liked hearing Javier breath heavily, groaning. Yuzuru had never been with anyone before, but Javier was more than happy to let him slowly discover how to touch and kiss, lick and suck to bring pleasure. It felt exciting, powerful, _fun_ , to feel Javier come undone in his hands. 

He wanted more.

Javier was careful, gentle. Each step was slow, making sure Yuzuru was comfortable. He took the time to make sure that Yuzuru was enjoying it, still wanted it, not moving on until he was sure they were both ready. There were some nerves from both of them, but Yuzuru trusted Javier, and they knew each other’s bodies enough to know what felt good and what didn’t. They took it slow.

Javier eased into Yuzuru’s body with great care, not wanting to rush, not wanting to hurt him. Yuzuru bit on his lip, chest heaving, rolling his hips when he was ready to move. He gripped onto Javier’s shoulders, moaning weakly at the overwhelming feeling of having Javier inside of him, the heat building between their bodies, the rising pleasure as they moved together.

“Is it okay?” Javier whispered into Yuzuru’s ear.

“Don’t stop,” Yuzuru urged, hand dropping to the small of Javier’s back. “Kiss me.”

The air around them seemed to get thicker, heavier. Yuzuru couldn’t stop the desperate sounds from escaping from the back of his throat, his head falling back against the pillows as Javier’s hands came between their bodies to touch him. Javier knew how he liked to be touched; light, teasing, not too fast. He knew where Yuzuru liked to be kissed, where it was okay to bite and how hard to do it. He knew that Yuzuru liked it when he kissed him slow, when he sucked on Yuzuru’s bottom lip before slipping his tongue inside. Yuzuru mouthed at his jaw, his throat, gasping against his skin. He loved feeling Javier come undone against him, hearing his breaths become more and more ragged, the soft, deep moans that grew more frequent. Yuzuru felt his body draw tighter and tighter, the motion of Javier’s body with his and the hand that was stroking him bringing him closer and closer to the peak of pleasure. He didn’t want it to end, but he also wanted that release. He moaned louder than he intended, hair sticking against his forehead as he tossed his head to the side. His mouth fell open as Javier’s resolve melted a little, hips driving into him faster. His back arched, hips rolling to meet Javier’s, palm flat against Javier’s back as his other hand grasped desperately at the pillow under his head. 

“I-- I’m--” he gasped, he couldn’t find the words in English, so he whined in his native tongue. The sentiment wasn’t hard to pick up; he couldn’t hold back anymore.

He cried out as he came, body shuddering with the lingering pleasure as Javier found his own end.

They kissed, slow and lazy, once they had come down from the high and had regained the ability to move to clean up for the night. Javier stroked Yuzuru’s back soothingly as they lay together, Yuzuru stretched out on his front, Javier on his side beside him.

“Did it hurt?”

Yuzuru shook his head. “Just felt good.”

Javier dropped a kiss to Yuzuru’s shoulder. “I’m glad.”

Yuzuru was quiet for a moment, not wanting to sound too eager. “You want to do again?”

Javier laughed, “Now?”

Yuzuru waggled his eyebrows at him.

“We’ve got training tomorrow,” Javier complained. “You’ll wear me out.”

Yuzuru snorted. “Are you getting old?”

Javier rolled on top of him, ignoring Yuzuru’s small protest but, thankfully, shifting his weight, so he wasn’t crushing Yuzuru into the bed.

He leant down and whispered in Yuzuru’s ear, “I’ll show you old.”

 

It was the first time they slept next to each other, spent a morning together. Yuzuru woke up and smiled at Javier’s sleeping face. Something tugged in his chest, feelings stirring and making themselves known. He couldn’t think of any moment he had felt quite so content.

 

Yuzuru skipped merrily into practice wearing the training pants he had stashed in his locker and one of Javier’s old t-shirts, which was a little too big for him, but fit for purpose. Brian watched him as he chirped a good morning and headed out on the ice, slipping right into his conditioning without being prompted. He turned and looked at Javier, who sipped his usual coffee innocently, pretending it wasn’t odd at all that he was early.

“He’s happy this morning.”

“Yup.”

Brian looked back out to the ice, then back to Javier. “He’s wearing one of your t-shirts.”

“He is.”

Brian said nothing, just looking out to watch Yuzuru skate, a slight stiffness to his extensions that weren’t usually there.

“Go on,” Javier said wryly to Brain. “Say it.”

“Say what?”

“Whatever it is you want to say.”

Brian held his hands up, eyebrows high in an ‘I’m innocent’ sort of expression.

“I’m not going to say anything,” he lowered his hands with a little shrug. “It’s none of my business. Unless you make it my business.”

Javier looks away from him.

“Javi, please, please, don’t make it my business.”

“It won’t come to that.”

“Good. I don’t want any mess; I don’t want any discord. I’m here to help you skate, not to get involved in any of your personal dramas.”

Javier snorted and shot Brian a disarming smile.

“No worries, there’s no drama.”

“Please, please, keep it that way,” Brian begs with a small, nervous laugh. “Now on the ice, go.”

 

The summer continued, Yuzuru’s routine got a little upgrade to include sleeping over at Javier’s apartment. He’d pack himself a change of clothes so he could go straight to practice without borrowing any of Javier’s t-shirts, as that was a little bit too conspicuous. It wasn't a big difference, just a small development. Yuzuru liked how easy and natural each step forward felt, how little actually changed between them with each step they took. Their friendship remained as it was, just with additions.

 

“I was going to skip the GP series,” Javier grumbled.  They were sat on his sofa, Javier reclining into a corner, one leg up with Yuzuru leaning against his chest, Javier’s arms around his waist. “I can’t because the final is in Barcelona.”

Yuzuru twisted back a little to shoot Javier a little smile.

“You can show me around. Teach me some Spanish.”

“You already know a little.”

“I only know ‘ _vamos Javi_ ’,” Yuzuru said with a little mock fist pump.

“That’s all you need,” Javier jokes. “Anyway, you know how to say ‘ _Hola_ ’ too.”

“Everyone know ‘ _hola_ ’,” Yuzuru grumbles. “It’s not special.”

“Ah, you want something impressive? You want Spanish girls falling at your feet?”

Yuzuru wrinkles his nose. “I need to know how to say ‘Javi is stupid’, I think is useful.”

“No, no. You mean ‘I love Javi, he is the best’,” Javier grinned.

Yuzuru felt his cheeks heat up. His heart fluttered a little. His voice suddenly coming out a lot quieter. “Maybe ‘I love you’ is useful too.”

“Ah, say after me then,” Javier instructed, speaking directly into Yuzuru’s ear “ _Te amo_.”

“ _Te amo,_ ” Yuzuru repeated, heart hammering, face becoming even hotter. He was glad they weren’t looking at each other.

“I think if you say that, Spanish fans would be very happy to hear it.”

Yuzuru swallowed nervously, turning back again to see Javier’s face. “And Javi? You feel happy when you hear it?”

Javier looked away, smiling. Yuzuru wondered if he felt shy. He didn’t think he ever really saw Javier look shy before.

“Yeah,” Javier said. “It makes me happy.”

 

There was a shift in mood as August drew to a close. The first event of the season would be in October. There wasn't a lot of time left.

Yuzuru stopped sleeping over at Javier’s apartment quite so much.

The importance of every training session having some quality grew the closer they got to the season starting. They talked about it, albeit briefly. The season was getting closer. Yuzuru wanted to focus on that, and he knew Javier did too.

There always came a point where there was a slight shift in dynamics between Yuzuru and Javier, as the season arrived and they switched back to being competitors rather than only rink mates. At the beginning of September, they hit that wall.

It wasn’t that they stopped being friends, but rather the focus on practice sharpened, and they needed a little more distance from each other. Yuzuru knew that Javier was anxious to do well in the Grand Prix, wanting desperately to win a medal at an international competition in his home country.

The end of the summer seemed to weigh down on both of them.

 

The pressure had never really left Yuzuru, but the distraction was gone, and it seemed that dam broke. It crept up on him. He closed his eyes and let out a breath as he ran through his free program one more time.

Yuzuru stopped going to Javier’s apartment.

They had talked about this; they _knew_ that getting together was wrought with complications. Taking that step with a friend was a risk, but their friendship itself had complications. Yuzuru knew that when the summer ended and the season began their relationship would change, there would be some adjustment. It didn’t worry him. He understood that they both needed to focus on their skating. If they could figure out how to be friends during competitions, Yuzuru knew that they would figure out how to be friends and lovers during competitions.

It was delicate but not impossible.

 

The first week of October, Yuzuru injured his back.  
He withdrew from the competition.

 

“It’s not a major event,” Javier told him, patting his shoulder sympathetically. Yuzuru had been sulking on his bed the day he was supposed to have been competing. Javier had only recently returned from his first event of the season. He had come second and was fairly pleased.

“Yeah, I know,” Yuzuru sulked. “I hate withdrawing though."

“At least you’ll be fit for Cup of China,” Javier said, trying to find the bright side.

“Hopefully," Yuzuru sighed. "At least I can train again now. I hate bed rest."

"I'll watch out for you," Javier smiled. "Make sure you don't hurt yourself again."

Yuzuru laughed. "Good. We have date in Barcelona, right?"

Javier looked down at his hands. "Right."

"Both have to get to final, for date."

"We'll get there."

After a small hesitation, Javier kissed Yuzuru’s forehead before he left. “Feel better."

“I will,” Yuzuru said softly. He lifted his face, hoping Javier would close the distance between them and kiss his lips.  
He didn't.

It was an awful start to the season. Yuzuru watched Javier leave, a little confused. 

It was okay, he told himself. They were okay. They just needed to adapt. They needed time.

Yuzuru lay down, staring at his hand curled in front of his face.

He hoped that the rest of the season would go smoothly.


	6. Collision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything starts to go wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for COC&NHK 2014. Also, mentions of an anxiety attack.

**Collision**

There was an edge of nerves Yuzuru had to shake off as he warmed up for practice.

The rink in Shanghai was okay, maybe not the best he had ever skated at but certainly not the worst. It was the first event of the season for him since he hadn't been able to skate in Finland due to a small back injury. The thing with small injuries was their tendency to grow if you tried to ignore them.

Yuzuru felt he was at a disadvantage, to go into his first Grand Prix event without having been to a minor competition beforehand. The smaller international events maybe didn't matter, had little pressure attached to them, but they gave an opportunity to test new programs in a competition environment. A program might be relatively in practice but be wrought with problems in competition; it was better to see if any problems arose as soon as possible. Work on those issues in training. Make adjustments.

He took position for his short program run-through, took a breath and began to move with the music, keeping note of the other skaters’ position and trajectory out of the corner of his eye. He took note of the way the music sounded; the quality of the sound system, the amount of echo, which notes were lost or muffled. He felt the ice under his blades, the coolness of the air has he moved.

 

It was nice to have a few friendly faces around for the competition. It played in nicely to Yuzuru’s tendency to want to talk non-stop when he was nervous, giving him the distraction of conversation without the amused glance from Brian as he was told; “Yuzu, you’re babbling.”

There were some people Yuzuru felt he could, maybe, call friends there. Nam was sharing the event with him, though had become quieter as the competition grew closer. Misha, who Yuzuru liked because he was fun and easy-going. Whenever possible, Yuzuru liked to watch Misha skate in competition and galas; he was an engaging performer, fun, expressive. Yuzuru felt like he learned something whenever he watched him. Keiji was there, for Yuzuru to talk to freely and easily, used to Yuzuru’s urge to let a stream of consciousness come out of his mouth whenever nerves started to get to him. Han Yan shot him little smiles in passing, talking to him about the rink in a mash of broken English, hand gestures and using Misha as a translator.

“He wants to show you around Shanghai if you have free time after the long,” Misha relayed. “Since you don’t come to China much. He knows some good restaurants you might like.”

“You have to come with us,” Yuzuru said, Misha’s endless language skills were useful to have around. “I should learn Chinese.”

“Is easy. I teach you.” Han grinned, “You like _chòudòufu_? I treat you.”  

Yuzuru nodded happily.

 

Yuzuru shook Brian’s hand and took a deep breath. He bent his knees, stretching out at the boards before hitting them twice and skating away. He looked out to the crowd, raising his arms to greet them.  
He did this at every competition, every time he skated. It was a comforting routine that distracted him from the nerves.  
He crossed his body, a habit to check his axis, and twisted his upper body to warm up his shoulders and waist, turning a few times as he mentally ran through a jump, then pressing his palms together in a small, silent prayer, taking his position in the middle of the ice.

The rituals weren’t for good luck, but he felt time if he didn’t do them, if he skipped one, something terrible would happen. Each motion, each little ritual, had a calming effect on him. He could focus. His anxiety eased.

He closed his eyes a took a deep breath, listening to the opening notes of the piano piece, counting carefully to fractions of seconds to his cue. He released the breath, rolled his head and opened his eyes.

Could they see, he wondered, the hours upon hours of skills training he had done over the summer? Could the audience, the judges, see the work he put into getting more power to each glide, deeper edges, greater control? Could the see the work he put in through the summer on every step, on every turn? Did they see the results from every practice session where he was almost in tears from the ache in his limbs, the bruises on his feet and his ankles and hips?

He held followed the curve of the outside edge, thigh muscles straining as he held the spread eagle position. Face calm, he launched directly into a triple axel; it felt good - no problems with the axis, great height, good distance, three and a half full rotations. He lifted his arms, extending his free leg briefly before slipping back into the spread eagle position, changing the edge as he lowered his arms. He had worked for weeks on making the whole thing, from start to finish, look smooth and effortless. He made sure the timing was perfect so that the jump, the landing, the change of edge was all with the music. He moved through the next series of steps, listening closely to the piano, making sure he hit each note.

The toe-loop went wrong. He felt it on take off that he wouldn't get four rotations. He saved it the best he could, at the very least he got out a decent triple. That was six points off from his base value. He tried to calculate as he did his spin how costly that mistake would be. He moved on, to the next series of steps, the next jump. He felt himself go off axis and mentally cursed. He stepped out and couldn't add the combination.  
It was a mess. He felt like a failure.

 

Brian patted his shoulder in the kiss and cry.

“You just got in your head a bit after the toe-loop,” he said calmly. “It's nothing you can't make up in the free skate.”

Yuzuru stared at the screen, waiting for his score. He was disappointed, frustrated. He hated when he wasn't perfect.

 **_82.95_ **. Yuzuru screwed up his face. “Why eighty-two?”

He thought he would've gotten higher. He had made costly mistakes, but he thought he could have gotten around 85 at least. Was his step sequence downgraded? A spin?

 

It wasn't a complete disaster. It was typical for events earlier in the year to be full of errors and low scores. Yuzuru was going into the free skate at second place. He had taken podium positions from lower placements after the short. But it was his first time skating that program outside of practice. It was likely to be far less than perfect.  
It could be enough, though. He would make sure it would be enough.

 

Yuzuru felt calm as he came out of a jump, his condition was fairly good coming into the free skate. The six-minute warm-up helped him feel a little bit surer. Sometimes he had a bad warm up, but a fine program. Sometimes he would have a great warm up but a trainwreck of a program. There was no rule to these things, but it certainly didn't hurt to have a decent warm up.

Nam had been excited to be in his warm-up group, but seemingly got nervous at the last minute to be going first out of the second group.

“Don't watch me,” he begged Yuzuru as they lined up to go on the ice.

“I won't.” Yuzuru smiled. “I think you'll be fine.”

Yuzuru breathed deep, considering what he should practice next before warm up ended. Maybe another toe loop, to make sure it was stable for the second half. Maybe a salchow…  
He picked up speed. He started to turn on his blade.   
Everything went black.

Yuzuru hit the ice.  
His stomach hit the ice, knocking all the air out of him. He chin hit the ice, jarring him.

It was all too fast. Too fast for him to try to protect himself with his arms.  
He hit the ice and his vision went black.

Everything hurt. He couldn't pinpoint where the pain was coming from. He tried to take a breath, but his lungs wouldn't inflate. It was too painful.

Panic flooded him. What happened? What went wrong? Where was he injured? How badly? The panic made it even harder to breathe. He coughed weakly.

Yuzuru lay on his side, staring at his hand, trying to focus. Where was the pain coming from? What happened? He could feel warmth on his face. Blood? Was he bleeding?

He remembered turning, the split second of seeing someone coming directly at him, tensing to brace for impact but incapable of being able to stop it from happening. Too fast. It happened too fast. His whole body slammed into the other person, their knee colliding with his thigh, their shoulder crashing into the side of his head, his arm striking their stomach, the force throwing him ice. No time to hold out his arms, he hit the ice hard. His stomach hit the ice first. Then his chin.

Everything ached, throbbed. Had he broken anything? It was impossible to try to assess the damage. Too much pain. Too much shock. He couldn't process.

He rolled onto his back, looking up at the ceiling. White. All he could see was white. He struggled to take in shallow, ragged breaths. The pain was unbelievable. His focus was scattered. He tried to get his legs up, but he knew he wouldn't be able to lift himself. His head hurt. His legs hurt. His stomach hurt. His face hurt.

The medics finally reached him, helping him onto his feet. That appeared to bring Yuzuru back to earth. His blades slipped beneath him, medics helping him to get steady. It hurt, it hurt so much to skate to the boards, but he needed to get off the ice.

It was a relief he was able to, even if the pain was near blinding.

 

“Yuzu,” Brian’s voice was tense, despite an obvious effort to sound calm for Yuzuru’s benefit.

Yuzuru was sat away from the prying eyes of audience and cameras. Medics wearing the American team jackets hovered around him. He hadn’t brought a medical team with him. JSF didn’t assign one. The venue hadn’t staffed any, only volunteers for basic first aid, they weren’t equipped for this. Yuzuru only had Kikuchi, who had some medical training but he was a specialist, not someone who could administer anything more than basic first aid. He couldn’t make the call whether Yuzuru was fit to skate or not.

“Yuzu,” Brian called for him again, as if worried Yuzuru was unable to focus on his voice, “Count from ten for me. Count backwards from ten.”

Yuzuru did as he was told, saying the English numbers as clearly as he could, the American medics paying close attention, one preparing bandages beside him.

Kikuchi came in front of him, perhaps so it was easier to communicate is English proved to be too taxing. The medics spoke slowly, carefully watching him, evaluating his responses. Brian watched him with worried eyes.

“Yuzuru, do you know where you are?”

“Shanghai, Cup of China, free skate.”

Yuzuru knew, he understood. He hit his head. Blows to the head were dangerous.  
Athletes have died from a knock to the head.

His skin tingled with the panic that realisation brought.  
They were unlikely to let him skate. He needed to skate. He wanted to skate. He did not want to withdraw and find himself out of the GP series; unable to defend his title and with nothing to do until nationals. Or Worlds. He felt okay - in shock, maybe, in pain but he knew where he was. He hadn’t lost his sense of the time. He could think reasonably clearly, although he was a little overwhelmed.

 

“Do you know what happened?”

“I hit someone. I don’t know who. Who was it? Are they okay?”

“It was the Chinese boy,” Brian told him gently. “He’s okay. We’re more worried about you.”

The medics milled around him, cleaning the blood from his neck and chin, muttering rapidly to each other about the visible injuries. A gash on his chin, blood coming from his hair.

More questions, more evaluation. His vision wasn't blurry, he wasn't disorientated in a way that was worrying, though a little hazy from the pain and the shock. He hadn't lost consciousness. He was a stunned, in pain, but he knew what was happening around him.

“Can I skate?” Yuzuru asked, a bandage around his head and chin strapped the stop the bleeding.

“I would rather we got you to a hospital and had you checked out properly,” Brian responded with a shake of the head.

“The American medics say you don't seem to have a concussion--” Kikuchi began, strained.

“So I could skate.”

“They advise against it.”

Yuzuru looked at the doctor. “I want to skate.”

The American medic shook his head. “Please, don’t compete. Please go to a hospital. You might not be showing signs of concussion now but--”

“I want to skate,” Yuzuru said firmly, looking up at Brian. “I want to try.”

Brian shook his head. “Yuzu--”

“If I withdraw I am out of series. I can’t go final.”

“There are other competitions.” Brian looked at him, pained at the sight of Yuzuru’s pale face, the bandage around his head, the plaster on his chin, the blood staining the collar of his costume. “We can take the time to get you healthy, focus on Worlds.”

“I want to skate.”

“You need your health; you’re a great skater with a lot more to give--”

“I want to skate.”

“You don’t have to,” Brian told him gently. His tone breaching on pleading. “Don’t be a hero. Don’t think you have to go out there. You’re hurt. It’s okay with withdrawing.”

Yuzuru knew he didn’t have to. He knew he could withdraw. He was aware that withdrawing would be what most people would do in this situation, what most people would expect of him - at least as a precaution.

It didn’t matter.

Yuzuru didn’t want to lie in a bed for weeks and treated delicately in training while everyone else competed around him. He didn’t want to be left for potentially months on end with no competition, so he would be going into his next competition with stored up anxiety and programs he barely used. He didn’t work all summer, train day-after-day for hours on end until his muscles ached, to not compete. He didn’t stare in the mirror, trying to get his expressions and upper body movements _just right_ , every night before he slept not to compete. He didn’t move to Canada and break apart his family to not compete.

Even if he came dead last, even if he failed to qualify for the final anyway, he wanted at least the opportunity to _try_. He worked too hard not at least to do that.

“This isn’t about looking like a hero or thinking I can’t let people down!” Yuzuru burst out, realising he had slipped out of English and into Japanese. He took a deep breath. “Is not that. I want to try. I want to skate.”

Brian looked at him steadily. He knew Brian could put his foot down. He could make a final call as his coach and effectively pull rank on Yuzuru. He could over-rule him, take him to the hospital, ban him from training until completely recovered and have him take it easy until he had built up his strength slowly. Brian knew he could do that. Yuzuru knew he could do that. They both also knew the damage that would cause. Yuzuru would feel betrayed; he would be angry, he would no longer believe that Brian trusted his judgement and, probably, question his own trust in Brian’s judgement - or worse, lose trust in _himself_.

Brian had to weigh up what was greater - the possibility of physical damage in attempting the free skate, or the incredibly likely emotional and psychological that would come from him choosing to go against Yuzuru’s wishes. It was a decision he would question over and over after he made it, regardless of which option he chose and regardless of the outcome. If he let Yuzuru skate only to later find doing so lead to a career-ending injury, it would haunt him. If he withdrew Yuzuru against his will, only to find that he had somehow managed to avoid serious injury, Yuzuru would hold some resentment towards the decision. Brian was torn.

Yuzuru looked at him steadily. He was obviously shaken, in pain, but there was an iron core of absolute determination.

“It’s your decision,” Brian said finally. “I will respect your decision.”

Yuzuru was almost overwhelmed with emotion. Even if he didn’t make it to the final, Yuzuru thought it was worth it. Having such concrete evidence of Brian’s faith in him made it worth it. Yuzuru had felt incredibly thankful for Brian before, but none so much as right now.

“Thank you.”

 

They were given another chance to warm-up. Yuzuru noticed that Han wasn’t at the rinkside.

“Han withdrew?”

Brian shrugged. “Maybe.”

The compulsion to find him, to apologise, was overwhelming. Yuzuru scanned to see where his team were and headed over.

Han looked up at him, not angry, but with a similar concern everyone seemed to have for him.

Yuzuru tried to bow, but could only nod his head. His stomach hurt too much.

“I’m so sorry.”

Han shook his head. “No. No. I’m sorry.” He looked at Yuzuru, a little confused. “You skate?”

“Yes.”

“Your head…”

“I’m okay.”

 

He wasn’t okay. He was shaken, edgy. The panic and fear filling him with adrenaline, numbing some of the pain, but not enough that it was gone. The muscle above his knee screamed, particularly when he tried to jump. The loop was bearable, the lutz painful but he could land it. He knew there was no way he could do the quad toe in the second half.

“I’ll do two lutz,” Yuzuru told Brian at the end of the warm up.

“I know,” Brian said.

 

Yuzuru took a deep breath, trying to call up the character of the program. _Just finish_ , Yuzuru thought. He just had to finish.

He fell on the first jump. And the second. His head was clear, aside from the pain and fear. He was terrified, of falling on a jump and hitting his head again, or suddenly being hit with a wave of dizziness or nausea. He knew skating was risky. He was aware of the risks. He feared them. But this was the choice he made.

His head was clear enough to try to focus on the program. Following the choreography, skating the way he needed to. But his spins were slower than usual, his steps not as clean as they were in practice. His body was heavy and fighting against him, but he willed it to move. _Jump_ , he thought, _jump, jump,_ **_jump_ **. He muttered it to himself, a mantra as he tried for the next one.

He fell, fell, fell.

He fell five times.  
He picked himself up six.

 

He could hear the crowd, feel their tension, almost hear the thoughts in their minds, their silent hopes, the thoughts they seemed to scream at him. _Get up, get up, keep going, finish_.

He got up. He kept going.

He felt desperate. His heartbeat was rapid. He tried to control his breathing; mouthing along to the lyrics in his program music. His mind was scrambled from the pain. He fought through the choreographic sequence, through the last spin.

He finished.

Relief washed over him.

He felt tired, weak, as he made his way off the ice. His body seemed to jerk uncontrollably, the weight of it too heavy. As if the ground was calling out to him. As if gravity was reaching out with invisible hands and trying to drag him down.

 

Brian reached out. “Let’s get you off the ice.”

Yuzuru’s legs wobbled, threatening to give out from under him. This was the crash after the adrenaline rush. He slumped forwards, Brian’s arm around his waist to hold him upright. He was so tired, so drained.

“Come on,” Brian urged. Yuzuru gripped the boards to stop himself from falling.

“Do you want me to put your guards on?”

“No,” Yuzuru said weakly, taking a blade guard from Brian’s hand and clumsily slipping it on my himself. He had to be strong. He had to get through this to the end. Get his score. He couldn’t let himself collapse.

He was scared. If he collapsed maybe he wouldn’t get up again.

He wondered in Brian had the same thoughts, as he nervously talked to Yuzuru as they waited for the scores.

“No media, go straight to the medical room.”

“I know,” Yuzuru said softly.

He laughed a little as Brian joked that, maybe, he ought to see a doctor. He picked up his Pooh, looking into its happy little face and patting its soft head.

“I’m done,” Yuzuru said quietly. “Finished.”

He made it though. All he wanted to do was make it to the end. He did it.

“This doesn’t matter,” Brian told him before the scores came. Both of them weren’t expecting a great score. Yuzuru fell five times. “You went out and did it, that’s what matters. That’s what you should be proud of. I’m proud of you.”

He needed more than 149 to have a chance to be on the podium. He thought he would be lucky to get that.  
**_1_** ** _ **5** 4.60_ **

It didn’t make sense. That put Yuzuru in first place with one person left to skate. It didn’t make sense. It was more than he needed. It was more than he expected. It didn’t make sense.

It meant that Yuzuru could still get to the final if he managed to do okay at NHK.

Yuzuru was shocked. Relieved. Exhausted. Overwhelmed. Too many emotions. Too many feelings.  
He buried his face in his hands and cried.

 

He returned to Japan for treatment. If his mother was worried, or angry at his decision to skate, she didn’t show it. She was focused, entirely, on make sure Yuzuru got better. The doctors said two or three weeks of rest were needed for Yuzuru to recover. She firmly held him to that.

“There’s only three weeks until NHK,” Yuzuru lamented from his bed at home.

“You can’t walk. You’re not pushing yourself. Two weeks rest _minimum_ ,” She told him, her voice leaving absolutely no room for argument. “Mr Orser will come and see what your condition is like and see if you can train. If you can’t, I don’t care how much you complain; you’re not going to NHK.”

She softened later. As did Yuzuru’s father.

“You’re almost a man.” Yuzuru’s father patted his head. “But you are still our boy. Nothing hurts more than seeing you in pain.”

 

When Brian had told Yuzuru he’d feel it the next day, he wasn't kidding. Yuzuru felt like he had been hit by a bus and put in a blender for days afterwards. His thigh hurt so much moving it was impossible. He couldn’t stand. He couldn’t walk.  
He couldn’t walk for ten days.

For almost a week he could barely move at all. He hated it. He hated feeling weak. It reminded him of when he had been a child - when his asthma made it difficult to skate a program and he would have days where he couldn’t train because his body was against him. He hated that weakness, he resolved to get stronger, and he had. Now he was bed-bound, growing more frustrated by the day.

He would need to get stronger.

It wasn’t just frustration that had him restless at night. He would close his eyes, start to drift off to sleep, and his mind would replay the moment before the collision. He would land a jump, skate back and start to turn. His body would jerk violently, waking him before he could truly fall asleep. It would take five more attempts to sleep before Yuzuru could actually rest.

Yuzuru knew his body. He knew that he didn’t build muscle easily nor did he hold onto it. The muscle he had, as lean and compact as it was, took daily effort to maintain. It took the hours of off-ice training, the three hours a day of training on the ice. It took the constant conditioning he did to keep those muscles strong enough to propel him across the ice, into the air, high enough to rotate three or four times and carry the impact of the landing. He remembered after the earthquake - when he had finally been able to go back onto the ice, his muscles had been too weak for him to jump properly. Ten days of not being able to walk without crutches… He knew that when he did return to the ice, it would be a struggle. Even if he did manage to convince Brian he was fit to train; he doubted he’d be anywhere close to fit for NHK. He’d maybe be able to jump by then, be able to struggle through his programs, but only just.

 

“Do you think I should have withdrawn?” Yuzuru looked up at his sister as she lightly stroked the hair on his forehead.

She shrugged. “I don’t think it would have made much difference.” She paused, pursing her lips. “I mean, there’s a lot that could have happened, and it was a risk you maybe shouldn’t have taken, but all things considered it didn’t go that badly.”

“I might have to pull out of NHK,” Yuzuru sighed.

“You might,” she shrugged again. “If you do, you probably would have had to even if you didn’t finish the skate in China. At least now if you can do NHK, there’s a chance in hell you might get the points you need to qualify for the final.”

Yuzuru nodded. He could always trust Saya to understand him. ‘What would you have done?”

Saya looks away from him and lets out a heavy breath. “I don’t know. I probably would have withdrawn and given up. I mean, there’s always the second half of the season, right?” She looks back at him with an odd sort of smile. “But that’s never been you.”

 

Friends did their best to wish him well, lift his spirits. His phone chimed with frequent messages from Keiji or Ryuju’s attempts to cheer him up, but after a few days Yuzuru just didn’t feel up to responding to a lot of the messages. So many people had asked if he was feeling okay and he was locked into always giving the same answer; _‘I’ll be okay, I’m resting for now.’_

He stared at the single message that Javier had sent him.

_ > Thinking of you. _

He didn’t know how to respond to it. There was too much he wanted to say. He wanted Javier there with him, to hold him, to make him laugh. He wanted to curl up, his head on Javier’s chest, and sleep in his arms. He wanted to whine at Javier to video call him so he could see his face, hear his voice. He wanted to cry into Javier’s shoulder.

But he also didn’t want to talk about it. So many people pestered Yuzuru to recount the crash and talk about his injuries. He had defended his decision to both Keiji and Ryuju when they had joked that he was crazy, he had stopped looking at the internet in order to avoid the flurry of articles criticising Brian for not forcing him to withdraw. He was tired of people either trying to pry into his condition or argue about what had happened as if they could change anything about it.

There was another part of him that didn’t want to distract Javier from his own training, his own preparations, his own competitions. He didn't want to worry Javier. They had known that their lives often had them on separate continents for long periods of time when they started to see each other as more than just friends. Yuzuru didn’t want to admit how unprepared he had been to actually live with that complication. He was mentally strained, physically battered and the only person he wanted to be close to was nowhere near him.

 

When Yuzuru could walk again, he went back on the ice. He knew he shouldn’t rush, but he didn’t have the time for patience.  
Walking still hurt. Skating hurt more.

“You can withdraw, if you want to. The option is always there if you don’t think you are ready,” Brian reminded him. He had gone back to Toronto while Yuzuru rested, and flew out to Japan once he heard Yuzuru was ready to try going out on the ice again. “No one would be disappointed in you-”

“They would. People would.”

Yuzuru knew that the Japanese federation would be unhappy at Yuzuru, their top star skater, not attending the Japanese Grand Prix event. He was aware that a lot of his fans were filling their spaces of the internet with wishes that Yuzuru would sit out the event in favour of rest, but he also knew they would be disappointed if he followed that wish. He knew the media was eager to see him return to the ice, to get getting the hits on articles. To say no one would mind if he withdrew was a lie.

Brian shrugged, “Maybe, but they’d understand. Your health is more important.”

Yuzuru sighs. “But If I withdraw I am disappointed. What was point in skating at China if I withdraw NHK?” Yuzuru shook his head furiously, “I can still get to final if I skate NHK. So I will do and try to get to final.”

Brian nodded and patted Yuzuru’s knee in encouragement.

“Then, we’ll do what we can this week, and we’ll try our best.”

 

Training through pain was nothing Yuzuru hadn’t experienced before. He doubted any athlete was a stranger to training through pain. That was how they became those labelled as ‘elite’. Training was not supposed to be within comfort levels - if it was, then you weren’t improving anything.

Yuzuru often trained until his muscles ached, until he was completely exhausted and his body became unresponsive. He trained to his limit. Then he would take a sip of water, go back out to the centre of the ice, and train a little bit more. If he pushed himself just a step beyond his limit, then that limit would be pushed further and further back. Slowly, day by day, that limit got pushed further back. That was how he went from barely being able to finish an hour skating class to training on ice for two hours a day. That’s how he went from 7th place at nationals, not qualifying for the World Championships, to Olympic and World Champion.  
He knew all about training through pain.

So he pushed himself, but nowhere close to the level he usually would. Just enough. Enough to get the strength back in his legs, to ensure nothing was lost from his steps and choreography. Enough to get his spins to a point of acceptability. Enough to get his triples back to a reasonable level of stability and his quads into the realm of possibility.  He only had a week to get himself anywhere close to fit for competition. Whether or not he was successful was arguable.

 

When the time came and the competition arrived, Yuzuru knew he wasn’t on form. He would not be skating his best. He just hoped he could do enough.

“It’s good to see you here,” Daisuke Muramaki squeezed Yuzuru’s shoulder in the locker room before the first practice session. “How are you feeling?”

Yuzuru forced a smile and answered the way he had been answering everyone else. “Not my best, but I’m okay.”

 

Yuzuru had focused on getting his body to a condition where he would be somewhat able to skate, he had forgotten to factor in everything else that went into a competition. He forgot to factor in the JSF reps, trying to roughly calculate the sort of position Yuzuru would need to be in to qualify for the final, trying to get him to aim for a points bracket when his only real goal before arriving had been to complete his planned programs. He forgot to factor in the media questioning if he was in the condition to compete, asking him about the accident. He forgot about being around other skaters and the strange tension they had until the competition was over.  
He forgot about group practice sessions.

Yuzuru had thought he would be okay. He thought he could just go out on the ice and get on with it like he had hundreds of times before. He thought he could go out and just focus on his run-through, practice a few jumps, continue with what he had been doing so he could go out for his short program and just do whatever he could.

He hadn’t counted on anxiety hit him swiftly in the ribs as he warmed up on the ice. He tried to shake it off, tried to focus on the practice session. But the five other skaters going full speed around the rink could not be ignored, nor could the steadily building fear that had his heartbeat racing and breath coming out in sharp pants. By the end of the session, he was clinging to the edge of the rink, wanting to get off the ice as soon as possible.

It was feeling he had every time he was woken with a jerk, every time he replayed the collision in his mind on the edge of sleep - eyes flying open at the point of impact, skin breaking out in a cold sweat. That feeling rose within him and lingered, far longer than the few seconds after being woken from a nightmare. It looped, collapsed in on itself, grew denser and harder, sucking Yuzuru into a black hole.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Yuzuru gasped as he got off the ice, slipping his guards on. He wasn’t fine. Brian tried to reach out to him, but Yuzuru pushed his hand way, feeling too sensitive to be touched. He needed to be somewhere quiet, somewhere he could be alone. He tried to breathe as he headed back to the locker room, Brian followed him tensely, Daisuke and Takahito eyeing him.

Yuzuru sat down on the benches, hands shaking in front of him. He was distantly aware of Brian shooing people away to give Yuzuru some space; Takahito hovering a safe distance away from where Yuzuru sat, watching unhappily. Daisuke sat beside him, far enough away that he wasn’t imposing on Yuzuru, but close enough that Yuzuru could hear the gentle urgings to calm down, take deep breaths.

He didn’t feel right all competition. He was edgy, nervous in every practice, just about able to get through them but flinching and throwing himself at the wall if anyone skated too close.

“You won’t feel like this forever,” Brian told him, the night before the short program in his hotel room. Yuzuru was buried half under his duvet, miserable that not only was his body struggling, but his mind was failing him too. “It’s the first time sharing the ice since to accident. Of course, it’s hard now. It’ll get easier.”

Yuzuru sniffed. He shared the ice with any number of people in Toronto all the time. There would always be risks, there would always be near-misses and tiny accidents, but mostly it was safe. As long as you were paying attention, it was safe.

“I’m not going to quit,” Yuzuru said, muffled by the duvet pulled up over his knees all the way to his nose. “I will do. I will go final. Or China was for nothing.”

Brian looked at him fondly. “Just...try to focus on getting to the end. Get through the short, get through the free, get through the gala. You can get through it.” Brian patted his knee through the thick duvet. “You’re stronger than you think you are. I’m proud of you.”

 

The short was a disaster. Focusing in the warm up was hard. Yuzuru was too rattled, too unfocused, body too weak. Yuzuru sat at 5th place. His body trembled when he got back to his hotel room. The pressure, the anxiety, the stress, the frustration and disappointment of the day breaking out of him. He threw himself on the bed and cried.

The free skate was better. It wasn’t enough. He sat, disappointed, dejected, heart sinking as he got his score. He silently said goodbye to the final. He pushed himself, but not enough. It wasn’t enough. He finished at 4th place.

He watched the medal ceremony, his stomach twisting bitterly as he clapped for Daisuke.

“Congratulations!”

Yuzuru looked sharply at the rep from JSF, confused. “For what?”

“You made it to the final,” she beamed at him. “By the skin of your teeth, but you made it.”

Yuzuru turned back to look at the podium, as the flags were raised and the national anthem began to play. The bitterness in the pit of his stomach transformed into fiery determination.

He would make the anthem play at the final.

 

Being back in his bedroom in Toronto seemed strange after spending so much time in Sendai. Toronto was home-but-not-home. Familiar and comfortable but also strange. He hadn’t been back long, just enough to sleep a day away to reset his internal clock from Japan time to Canada time. He would have a short rest and then go back to training. He was eager to get back to any kind of normal routine.

Yuzuru lay sprawled out on his bed, indulging himself for a moment with a computer game. He looked up at a soft tap on his door.

“Javi.”

Yuzuru didn’t get up, but he did fumble with his PSP to save the game and switch it off, scooting to make room for Javier as he entered the room.

“I heard you were back, thought I’d see how you are before you come back to practice,” Javier perched at the edge of the bed. Yuzuru forced himself to sit up.

“I’m okay,” Yuzuru told him smoothly, the response practically a reflex at this point. Javier seemed to sense that, sending Yuzuru an odd sideways glance, before looking away.

“It’s been really rough, huh?”

Yuzuru let out a breath, closing his eyes. This was Javier. He could be honest with him. “Yeah. I--I’m so tired.”

“I wanted to talk to you sooner but…” Javier sighs, turning to face Yuzuru. “I thought maybe you needed a little time ”

Yuzuru laughed weakly, “Yeah. Many people asking me same thing over and over. After I while I want to stop speaking to people.”

Javier nodded, swallowing a little nervously. It was odd, Yuzuru thought, how tense he seemed.

“I was really worried about you,” Javier said in a small voice. “I should’ve...called you or something? But...time zones. And I didn’t know what to say.”

Realisation trickled through Yuzuru’s mind. Javier felt bad about not talking to him more? Yuzuru hadn’t exactly been reaching out either. Javier had thought YUzuru had needed space, and in a way he had. He had missed Javier, wanted him close, wanted his comfort and kisses. Talking could have helped, hearing Javier's voice could have helped, but it would've made the aching need for Javier to be there with him, to hold him, stronger. 

“Is okay,” Yuzuru said. “I know you thinking of me.”

Javier’s lips curl into a small smile at the acknowledgement of his short message.

“Nam told me. About the crash.”

“You didn’t watch?”

Javier shook his head, closing his eyes. “I couldn’t watch it live. And after I heard about what happened…” Javier shakes his head more vigorously. “I tried to watch your performance but after the first two falls I couldn’t.”

Yuzuru saw the tension in Javier’s shoulders, the way his hands curled into a fist.

“I...I was really mad at Brian for a while.”

“Why?” Yuzuru frowned.

“He shouldn’t have let you skate! What if you hit your head again? Or the concussion was delayed? I was too scared to watch the full skate because what if on one of the falls you just didn’t get up?”

“You knew that didn’t happen though-”

“That’s not the point.” Javier’s brow furrowed, voice raising slightly, emotions taking over. “Nam had been freaking out, he thought you had been knocked out on the ice, there were rumours that you lost consciousness backstage--”

Yuzuru frowned, “If that happened you really think anyone would let me skate? You think I’m crazy and would try?”

“You did though,” Javier said shortly.

“I hurt, and I’m maybe stupid to skate hurt, but I don’t blackout, I don’t throw up or feel dizzy or confused. Just hurt.”

“Honestly, Yuzu, I respect your drive, but you are so competitive and so unwilling to give up you border on self-destructive. It scares me. You’ll overtrain, you’ll injure yourself, you’ll lie about injuries and compete on sprained ankles--”

"I’m not stupid; I know limits.”

“Do you?” Javier looks at him sadly. “I know we all push ourselves but…”

“Han skated too,” Yuzuru grumbled. “He was hurt too-”

It seemed the whole time from the moment of the accident up to now everyone seemed to ignore Han and focus on Yuzuru. As if Yuzuru was too delicate to handle any kind of blow, as if he was still a sickly child liable to break at any moment. The precious ice prince that needed to be wrapped in wool. Yuzuru hated that.

“He didn’t hit his head,” Javier argued.

Yuzuru sniffed, “It doesn’t matter now. Is done.”

Javier seemed to give up, deflating a little. “Yeah, I guess. But...At the time, I--” Javier shook his head, lost for words. “I think you’re amazing? But I wish you’d look after yourself more. I hate seeing you hurt.” Javier softened. "I don't think you know how much you mean to me. I don't know what I would have done if you had been seriously hurt. You could've died. For a while, that's all I could think about."

They lapsed into a small silence. Yuzuru wished Javier would sit closer to him, reach out his hand and cover where Yuzuru was picking at his bedsheets.

“I heard about NHK too,” Javier said, breaking the silence. “You had panic attacks?”

Yuzuru had not been expecting that. "H--How did you hear about that?”

Javier hesitated, his body suddenly becoming tense again. “Miki told me.”

Yuzuru frowned. Something seemed off. Not that Javier would talk to Miki, they had known each other for a long time; they shared a coach for a while but…

“How Miki know?”

“I--She knew I was worried about you. She asked Dice. He told her you had a panic attack after practice and didn’t seem right the whole competition.”

Yuzuru snorted softly. “I see, you used your connections to check up on me.”

“Of course I did,” Javier said. “I was worried about you.”

Javier seemed to radiate a strange awkwardness. Was it just the time they had spent apart, the accident, the near-total lack of communication they had while Yuzuru had been in Japan? It was like there was a thin, invisible wall between them. Yuzuru wanted to break through.

“I should’ve called you. Messaged you more. Anything.” Javier looked down. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Yuzuru said. “I should have replied to you.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I didn’t know what to say.” Yuzuru paused. “Too much I wanted to say.”

He wanted to say how much he missed Javier, how much he wanted to be held by him, loved him. He wanted to go back to the summer before everything started going wrong; when Yuzuru would lay on Javier’s bed, laughing as Javier tickled his sides and they kissed tasting like cheap popsicles and iced tea.

“I thought you were mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you.”

“You’re not?”

“No.” Yuzuru shook his head. Why would he be mad at Javier? He had an equal share of the blame to their sudden cool-down once the season started.

“So...We are okay? You and me?”

“We’re okay.”

“It’s just...I should have talked to you about this earlier. Before you left for China. We--”

“It’s okay. We knew is like this when we started.”

“Yeah,” Javier let out a breath. “I should have talked to you though. We just got so wrapped up in the season starting-”

“It’s okay,” Yuzuru assured him, smiling sadly. “Summer is over. We can’t be like summer now. I know.”

“And, you’re okay?”

Yuzuru nods. “We are friends in season before. We are friends in season now. We can work together.”

Javier’s face seemed to melt as the tension left him and was swiftly replaced with relief.

“I was so worried I ruined everything. I was so worried we couldn’t be friends.” He rubbed his face, as if he had just woken up. “You mean so much to me, Yuzu. Really. I care about you so much.”

Yuzuru’s heart fluttered, pleased. It was almost like hearing ‘ _I love you_ ’. It was the sort of thing Yuzuru had wanted to hear. “I care about you too-”

“We’re really going to be okay?”

Yuzuru smiled, amused, but also touched. He had been a little worried about their relationship, that maybe Javier wasn’t as invested as him, that maybe he didn’t feel the same as Yuzuru. That melted away. The dynamics were difficult to work out, especially while they were competing apart from each other and spending a significant amount of time on different continents. It was a comfort to see that Javier had worried about how they would make their relationship work too.

Yuzuru fell into Javier’s arms as he was pulled close. He nuzzled lightly against Javier’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around Javier’s chest, taking in a deep breath of the familiar scent of his skin, letting it soothe him.

“I’m so lucky I met you,” Javier whispered against his hair. “I’m always here for you, okay? No matter what.”

A calm settled over Yuzuru, a feeling of rightness. This was where he belonged. This was what he needed. He needed the comfort of Javier’s arms, the solid body next to him, knowing that Javier was strong enough for him to lean on.

“I’m always here,” Yuzuru whispered back, muffled against Javier’s shoulder.

Finally, Yuzuru felt some kind of peace.


	7. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuzuru breaks. No one will be there to fix him, he must learn to fix himself.

**Broken**

  
Yuzuru felt a little tentative going back to training. His body was still not at it’s best, but his condition had been good enough to compete at NHK, so he felt reasonably confident that he would be able to train without any physical problems.

However, he was still a little jittery at the idea of trying to skate on a crowded rink. He was worried he would have another panic attack, or that the anxiety he had gotten at every practice and warm-up would never fade and would affect his training, his progress. Regardless, he felt ready. He needed to be. They had less than two weeks until it was time to head out to Barcelona.

  
Brain beckoned Yuzuru to follow him into his office as soon as he laid eyes on him.

Yuzuru sat down, a bit curious as to why Brian wanted to speak to him privately, but he assumed it was going to be about his training. It would be either one of two things; easing him back into sharing the ice with a number of other skaters after being so jumpy at NHK, or checking his physical condition and how they would work on continuing to build him back up to health. He was a little surprised it turned out to be neither of these things.

“I just wanted to know if you wanted me to maybe change your schedule a little?” Brian asked cautiously.

Yuzuru tilted his head. “Why?”

Brian cleared his throat awkwardly. “I thought maybe you’d like a little less time with Javier.”

Yuzuru was honestly confused. They didn’t, really, spend a whole lot of time training together in season anyway, but Brian had never gone out of his way to separate them before a major event before. Even in the run-up for the Olympics, their schedules had overlapped. It was a bit baffling as to why Brian would consider needing to separate them now. Yuzuru knew that Javier desperately wanted to win the final, so he could get gold in his home country, but this was not entirely unusual. Javier and Yuzuru had been going against each other for the same titles ever since Yuzuru entered the senior field. Javier might have a more relaxed demeanour than Yuzuru, but he had the same fire.

Yuzuru’s brow furrowed. “I don’t think is needed.”

“Are you sure? It’s not a problem. I can understand if you want to maybe...avoid him…”

“I don’t want,” Yuzuru said, shaking his head.

“If things are a little tense between you two-”

“No, we are good.” Yuzuru gave Brian a small, reassuring smile. “There no bad feeling. We talk yesterday.”

Brian looked a little startled for a moment but visibly relaxed. “Oh, okay, good. Well, if you change you mind just let me know.”

Yuzuru nodded slowly. He felt like he was missing something. “Did Javi say something?”

Brian shook his head. “No, no, I just thought-- Nevermind.” He stood up, rubbing his hands together. “Okay, well, let’s get you started today. We’ll take it easy. Take as many breaks as you need.”

Yuzuru nodded and followed him out of the office, still confused.

 

The days went quickly. Each day Yuzuru felt himself settle, felt his body get a little stronger, a bit more back to normal. The fear he had on the ice at NHK grew smaller, changing to a keen awareness of his surroundings.

Nam had given him a tight hug upon seeing him, which Yuzuru was a little taken aback by at the time, as it was kind of out of nowhere. 

"I'm glad you're okay," Nam said stiffly. "We were all-- I'm glad."

 

There wasn’t much time for playing around at training anymore. In the summer they tended to be a bit more relaxed, talk more, mess around. With the final so close, they were more focused, but that didn’t stop Javier from occasionally rubbing Yuzuru’s shoulders while he took a short break, subtly checking that Yuzuru wasn’t too anxious or in any pain. Yuzuru appreciated it, but it got a little annoying.

“I’m not child,” Yuzuru huffed. “And you are not my coach. I’m fine. Think about your training, not me.”

Javier looked at Yuzuru with a strange, unreadable expression. “I always think about you.”

Yuzuru huffed again. “Why do you always be cute when I’m annoyed?”

“So you’ll be less annoyed at me.” Javier smiled cheekily and took a sip of water. “Is it working?”

Yuzuru let out a long-suffering sigh. “I can't ever stay mad at you.”

 

Javier listened to Yuzuru and backed off. It became apparent that he had repeatedly been checking on Yuzuru to distract himself from his own nervousness at the prospect of skating at a major international event in his home country for the first time.

“I know I've done a lot for skating in Spain but--I want to do more,” Javier told Yuzuru, bouncing on his heels in the warm-up room. “I want to win in my home country. Or at least get on the podium.”

Yuzuru rolled his eyes. “You’ll be fine.”

“Unless I fall on every jump and mess up everything,” Javier muttered darkly.

Yuzuru laughed, shaking his head a little dismissively. “Don't think that. Just do best. Spain will be happy to see you skate anyway.”

“When you do events in Japan do you feel more nervous or less nervous?” Javier asked, obviously feeling more the former.

Yuzuru shrugged. “Same everywhere. But in Japan more people cheer for me, so I feel little stronger.”

Javier snorted. “You have loads of fans at every competition; you’re used to it.”

Yuzuru shrugged again. “So do you.”

Javier shook his head. “Not like you.”

 

  
Yuzuru felt somewhat relaxed. His only real aim for the competition was to perform better than the previous two events and see what kind of position that would give him. He wanted to win but...he could settle for any podium position so long as he gave a performance he wasn't ashamed of.

He knew that he shouldn't have been able to make it to the final. Not with what happened in China, not with how he performed at NHK.

The first practice to test out the ice was, mostly, uneventful. Although Yuzuru could see the nervousness that was steadily growing in Javier. He hoped that Javier could get his nerves under control before the short program. Even if they were competing, Yuzuru still wanted Javier to do well. He understood that pressure, the need to make yourself proud in front of your home country. Yuzuru hoped Javier would be able to perform in a way he could be satisfied with.

The Junior events happening in the same place gave Yuzuru a nice distraction from the nerves he always got before a competition. After the first official practice, Yuzuru headed with Tatsuki and Takahito to watch what they could, just about catching the end of the junior ladies and sticking around for the junior men’s, cheering for the familiar faces of Sota and Shoma in a tucked away area where they wouldn’t attract much attention.

“You look so much better,” Takahito said, patting Yuzuru on the back. “You looked awful at NHK.”

“I’m okay now.” Yuzuru smiled, reassuringly. He turned his eyes back to the ice. He was tired of talking about the crash, the injuries, the nervous mess he had been in Japan. He was ready to move on, leave it behind him.

They all cheered warmly for each skater, making little comments here and there on the performances. It was a great chance to take a break and be friendly with each other before their own events began.

They did it again, for the junior free skate, watching what they could after the official practice before they headed to the warm-up rooms to prepare for their competition to start.

It not only worked as a distraction to ease Yuzuru’s nerves, but it also fed his competitive streak. It strengthened the part of him that wanted to go out and put on a show. He watched Shoma hit a high score for his free skate, saw the way he moved on the ice smoothly, felt the pride of two young friends take silver and gold and got that greedy feeling he so often got. He wanted to win.

In the hallway, Shoma stood with his coach, smiling awkwardly as he held his medal for the camera. Yuzuru mouthed his congratulations, much to the delight of Shoma’s coach, and waited for the little photo session to end.

“Shoma!”

Shoma looked a little startled for a moment, before breaking out into a shy smile.

“I just wanted to say congratulations,” Yuzuru said with a grin. “You were great.”

Shoma’s eyes went a little wide. “Y-you saw?”

“I managed to catch it. You got a high score, right?”

Shoma looked bashful. “Yeah, for the free.”

“Hopefully I can watch you skate at Nationals too.” Yuzuru beamed, eyes turning into crescents. “You get better every year; your free was awesome.”

“Thanks,” Shoma mumbled. “Good luck with your short today.” He looked down, distinctly embarrassed. “I like the new outfit more than your first one; I hope it’s lucky for you.”

Yuzuru felt a little awkward, although the sentiment made him feel very fond.  “I hope so too.”

“I’ll be cheering for you.” Shoma licked his lips nervously, looking up. Yuzuru wondered if it was just that Shoma’s eyes were so big that made him always look like a nervous puppy whenever Yuzuru spoke to him.

“You’ll watch in the crowd?”

“Maybe.” Shoma shrugged. “Probably.”

“I’ll...try to perform well for you.”

Shoma’s expression softened a little. “You’re always great to watch. Anyway, good luck.”

“Thank you.”

 

The crowd was spirited and responsive. Yuzuru smiled inwardly at the loud cheers that erupted at the announcement of Javier’s name, but also at his own. The crowd gave cheers for everyone, which pleased Yuzuru a lot. He had experienced crowd that obviously played favourites and hadn’t cheered for him at all. It had been a little scary, skating in front of a crowd that essentially rejected you. He wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

  
Yuzuru was satisfied with his short program. It hadn’t been perfect, he had gone off axis on his lutz, chanced the combination and fell on his butt, but he got the rotations and got all the levels on his spins and step sequence. His aim had been to do better than previous events; he certainly achieved that.

Yuzuru waved at the camera as he waited for his score with a genuinely happy smile.

“You learned some Spanish greetings, right?” Brian said to him. Yuzuru nodded and waved again.

“ _Hola! Gracias!_ ” He said cutely, smile bright. Brian laughed.

 **_94.08_ ** **.** Not a personal best, not even close, but beating his previous attempts by a decent margin.

“Well done, I’m proud of you,” Brian said, giving Yuzuru a happy little hug and a pat on the back.

Going first meant that once he had talked quickly to media, he was able to watch the other skaters and keep track of his position.

Javier was nervous. Yuzuru could see it as he took his position, he could see a stiffness in his movements as he started his program. Yuzuru winced as Javier went horribly off axis in his quad sal and fell on the ice. He hoped the claps from the crowd would reach Javier and give him some encouragement, rather than add to his nerves. They didn’t. Javier was intimidated to be faced with an audience that had expectations of him. Yuzuru knew he had worried too much about making the Spanish crowd feel proud of him, and that had fused with the regular nerves of competing.

Yuzuru chewed his lip, frowning as he watched Javier mess up his combination and stumble on a step.

It was awful, to see Javier get a bad score, and sit at fourth place after his skate when he had wanted so badly to do well. The last skater finished. Javier was pushed down to fifth place. Yuzuru had, incredibly, held onto first.

He wanted to talk to Javier, give him some encouragement or comfort, but he didn’t know what to say. Instead, Yuzuru gave him a wordless hug. Javier seemed to deflate in his arms, silently breathing against his ear, holding him tightly.

 

That night Yuzuru stood under the warm spray from his shower, muscles relaxing under the water. He noticed his stomach felt strange. A dull ache.  A strange, heavy feeling. He touched the tender area cautiously, unable to decide if the area felt harder or softer than usual. He wondered if he had somehow damaged a muscle there. He shrugged it off and rinsed his hair.

 

Yuzuru felt confident going into the free skate. Fairly confident. There was still that edge of nerves that wouldn’t allow him to take anything for granted.

He didn't watch the skaters that went before him, focusing instead on keeping his muscles warmed up, making sure his body was well prepared to perform, listening to music to get himself in the right mindset. Occasionally he would slip an earphone out of his ear and check the scores. The only skater he watched was Javier, hoping he could pull himself back after the disappointment of his short program.

He did. It wasn’t perfect, but Javier didn’t have the same craving for complete flawlessness that Yuzuru did. He had popped got quad sal combination and got caught on the ice for a lutz, but he hadn’t fallen. He had done well. He ended with a smile.  
As it happened, despite the odds, Javier had done enough to lead the men right up to it being Yuzuru’s time to skate. Yuzuru would be the one to decide if Javier got gold or silver.

 

Yuzuru headed out on the ice, going through his rituals, easing his mind away from nervousness; half burning with the need to beat Javier and take the gold and half of him feeling like if he took silver and Javier won it wouldn't be too terrible. He wasn't going to give up gold easily. He was going to do his best.

He just wanted to give a better performance than before.

He felt calm, focused, as he slipped into character and began to skate. He landed the first quad, and the second, his confidence going up as he approached the next element. 

Yuzuru fell on the final lutz, but he didn't matter. He got up with a smile and wrapped up the program.

Finally, his body didn't feel like something he was fighting against. Finally, he felt like the training, the skating through pain and injury and fear, was worth it.

 **_194.08_ **. Yuzuru hugged Brian happily, jumping up as he was announced first place and bowing to all areas of the crowd. He had done it. All he wanted was to skate unhindered by injury, and he had done it. All he wanted was to get on the podium, and he had done it. Relief came with his happiness. His luck had changed. Things were looking up.

He jumped onto the podium with a grin. It felt amazing, to go from the worst start to a season he ever had in his life, to a gold medal. He bowed, ignoring the strange pain in his stomach, and thanked the crowd as they cheered.  Javier came out to claim his silver medal, and Yuzuru whooped loudly, encouraging the crowd to cheer louder. Javier smiled at him warmly.

 

Away from the ice, Javier pulled Yuzuru into a tight hug. “I’m happy for you,” he said lowly.

Yuzuru patted his back. “Thank you.”

“I’m glad Barcelona was lucky for you.”

Yuzuru laughed and leant back to look at Javier, patting his cheek lightly. “I think Spain is good to me.”

“I guess so,” Javier laughed. “I’m glad I could be on the podium with you.”

Yuzuru almost leant forward to close the space between them to kiss that sweet smile, but Javier had already moved away before he had the chance. Yuzuru was a little confused as Javier slipped out of his arms. It had been so long since they last kissed - the nerves of the season beginning followed by long stretches of being in different countries and the pressure of practice in the run-up to the final saw to it that they never had the time, or the right opportunity to spend some time alone in private. They were too tired, too stressed, in Yuzuru’s case too drained in general to get themselves together for a date. Yuzuru brushed the niggling feeling that something was wrong aside. Javier was right to turn away, to not kiss him here. It wasn’t the right time. It wasn’t the right place. He was proven correct, when at that exact moment, Brian popped his head around a locker to remind Yuzuru that media were waiting for him.

Yuzuru grabbed his jacket with a small sigh and hastily zipped it up. He checked himself, making sure his medal was visible and headed out to the cameras.

 

They had a day after the gala to do whatever they wanted, probably the only free time they would have before it was time to go their separate ways. Yuzuru would be heading to Japan as soon as the competition ended for Nationals, while Javier would be staying in Spain for his Nationals and the European Championships. It would be another few months before they’d see each other again. So, Javier stuck to his promise to take Yuzuru sightseeing, albeit sneakily as they tried to avoid being recognised on the streets from any lingering fans that had hung around for their own tourist adventures. Once away from the competition venue and the hotel, not being recognised wasn’t too difficult of a feat to achieve.

Yuzuru, unleashing the real tourist within, had wanted to see La Sagrada Familia. Javier indulged him, though on condition.

“But next time you come to Spain, I’m showing you the places tourists miss, okay?”

Yuzuru nodded, pleased at the idea of Javier wanting to bring him back to Spain at some point.

Javier put his arm around Yuzuru’s shoulders as he took a picture of the cathedral, smiling and copying Yuzuru’s pose when he held his phone high and turned the camera onto them. They walked around the area casually before hopping onto the metro and heading to Las Ramblas. Javier bought him a hot chocolate that he sipped as they walked, up to the park, through it, and heading towards the Gothic quarter so Yuzuru could look at the buildings and take pictures, his cheek pressed against Javier’s, fingers making a V, smiling brightly.

Javier would point out little things as they walked, tell Yuzuru how to say it in Spanish, then chuckle at Yuzuru’s attempts.

“Your Spanish is the cutest,” Javier teased. “I could listen to you all day.”

Yuzuru pretended to pout, but he smiled as he took another sip of his cooling hot chocolate, leaning into Javier’s body when he slipped a hand onto Yuzuru’s waist, waiting to cross the street.

“Are you hungry?” Javier asked, glancing at his watch. The sun was still up, but the light was fading quickly. Yuzuru regretted that he had come to Spain in the winter when the days were so short.

“A little,” Yuzuru said. His stomach still felt strange with a heavy ache.

“I’m meeting my parents for dinner in a little while. I’ll let them know you’re joining us?”

Yuzuru felt a flutter of excitement. He had met Javier’s family in passing, but having a dinner with them was entirely different. Yuzuru nodded eagerly.

 

The restaurant was trendy, but had a cosy kind of feeling, bubbling with the hum of conversation and the occasional clattering and shouts from the kitchen.

“My Pa thought tapas would be good so you could try a lot of Spanish food,” Javier told him. Yuzuru looked around the restaurant curiously, appetite waking up at the smell of food.

When Javier’s family arrived, Yuzuru awkwardly greeted them in Spanish with a half-bow. His stomach twinged. Javier’s mother cooed and praised his attempt.

“He copied your accent, how cute,” she gushed at Javier before kissing both of Yuzuru’s cheeks. “Congratulations on winning. Javi told us you’ve been having a hard time.”

Yuzuru smiled awkwardly. “Thank you.”

Yuzuru looked curiously at the food, not sure what to try first.  Javier leant to whisper into his ear.

“I’ll save you from any peppers and pass you tomatoes, okay?”

Yuzuru grinned at him. “Javi is the best!”

“I know, I know.” Javier preened.

Yuzuru tended to be picky with food, which was why they waited until after the competition to have a meal - he didn’t like to eat anything heavy before competing because it tended to make him feel sluggish, or try anything new in case it didn’t agree with him. He trusted Javier knew him well enough to know what sorts of foods he would like, and which he wouldn’t. Anything Javier suggested he try, he tried, anything Javier told him to avoid, he avoided. He ate slowly, listening to the steady flow of conversation between Javier and his family. He couldn’t understand, but he enjoyed listening to Javier speak his native language. His voice changed when he spoke Spanish - it was a little deeper, faster, more confident. He liked listening to it. He liked the way the conversation would flow from English, to allow Yuzuru to engage, to little bursts of Spanish and Javier whispering choppy translations into his ear.

“Ma thinks you don’t eat enough, that’s why you are so skinny,” Javier teased, poking Yuzuru’s side. Yuzuru laughed and swatted him away, feeling his stomach twinge painfully, but making sure it didn’t show on his face. Javier’s mother smiled at them fondly.

 

When they returned to the hotel, Javier gave Yuzuru a quick hug in the hallway before they headed to their rooms.

“Thank you for taking me out,” Yuzuru said. “I had fun.”

“Me too,” Javier pulled back and ruffled Yuzuru’s hair. “You look tired.”

Yuzuru nodded. “I’ll sleep. Goodnight, Javi.”

He wanted to whisper in Javier’s ear, verbalise the warm rush of affection and joy he felt, but it wasn't the right place. Yuzuru met Javier’s eyes, seeing the same warmth there, answering the things Yuzuru couldn't say.

He wanted to pull Javier into his room, just for a quick kiss before they separated for the night, but he couldn’t be completely sure that no one would see Javier disappear behind his hotel door only to emerge moments later and think it was strange.

  
He slipped into his room and flopped onto his bed with a smile. It had been the date Javier promised him, even if how affectionate they could be was limited due to being out in public and the extra attention a competition brought them. Even if Yuzuru had to restrain the urge he had to hold Javier’s hand or kiss him goodnight. He was still happy. It had been just what Yuzuru had needed - a little bit of time as just the two of them.

He closed his eyes, smile still playing on his lips. It would be a while until they had time to do anything like that again but maybe, just maybe, they could get away with something like that in Toronto before Worlds. Maybe. They could go out for a treat and slip back to Javier’s apartment after, where they were safe and free to touch however they wanted. Yuzuru would pay, he thought. He liked the idea of taking Javier out on a date in return. He would like to do it in Japan too, though they would have to be far, far more careful if they did.

Yuzuru made a content, sleepy sound into his pillow. Finally, everything seemed good again. After everything going wrong, finally, things were going right.

  
Yuzuru looked down at his stomach and poked the strange, swollen bulge at his navel. He had to go, he had to catch his flight back to Japan, and he was going to have to do it with a weird golf-ball sized lump on his stomach. He put on his shirt and cast his eyes around the room, making sure he hadn't forgotten to pack anything or left anything messy. Hotel room in order, he grabbed his suitcase and headed out the door. His stomach hurt.

> _Did I do bad thing last year?_

Yuzuru text Javier as he waited to board his flight. He stood because it hurt to sit, his face covered by a mask, hood up on his jacket to avoid any attention from any fans that might be travelling at the same time as him.

It was always strange to him, whenever he got attention off the ice.

> _No??? Why?_

Yuzuru smiled a little. It was nice that, even though Yuzuru knew he would be busy and travelling, Javier could respond quickly. It wasn’t often that they were in the same timezone to quickly message each other like this. Not lately, anyway.

> _I have bad luck (๑◕︵◕๑)_

Yuzuru looked up. Two ladies were staring at him from a distance. Upon seeing him notice them, they hastily looked away and started to chatter. Yuzuru looked down at his shoes. He didn’t doubt there were other eyes on him somewhere. He appreciated that no one was approaching him. He was tired, and one person was usually followed by more. He didn’t mind talking to fans, although he sometimes found it a little odd. He liked the opportunity to thank people individually for their support. But he didn’t feel up to it right now.

> _I thought your luck was getting better? What happened?_

Yuzuru hesitated, he had mentioned his stomach feeling weird to Brian, but the swelling was something new. He didn’t want to seem like he was complaining, especially if it ended up being nothing serious. It was probably just a little infection, Yuzuru thought, no big deal.

>   _I think my belly is sick ~( >_<~) _  
> _It really hurt._

Yuzuru checked his watch, starting to feel impatient, hoping his flight would start boarding soon. He hated waiting for things. He was used to flying by now, but he still got a little nervous when he was waiting to board.

> _That sucks :-(_  
> _Hope your flight isn’t too bad & you feel better before Nationals! x _

 

Yuzuru realised as soon as he got on the plane that the flight would be particularly hellish. When he sat, the ugly lump at his navel throbbed. He wouldn't be able to sleep through the flight. The discomfort from his stomach would stop his from getting any rest.

Yuzuru looked out the window at the fluffy clouds below. Why was it one thing after another this year? First the back injury, then the crash, then the anxiety, now he had something wrong with his stomach _right_ before Nationals… was he cursed? He shifted again in his seat, trying to find a position that was somewhat comfortable to no avail. He would have to see a doctor once he got home.

He was getting sick of seeing doctors.

  
The doctor had given Yuzuru antibiotics and assured Yuzuru the problem wasn’t too bad.  
The doctor obviously hadn’t anticipated the weird lump to burst in the bath like something out of a horror movie.

‘ _You’ll need surgery_ ’ was news Yuzuru had not wanted to hear. He was somewhat mollified that he could hold it off until after Nationals, but it meant he had to put up with a wound on his stomach that was painful, swollen and oozing.

Yuzuru was reasonably happy going to Nationals, despite the misfortune with his stomach. Even if they were competing, he was pleased to see his friends again. He found himself sharing a room with Ryuju, which pleased him and would make the whole ordeal of getting through a competition with a constantly re-opening wound and a festering infection a little less unpleasant.

Kanako had grabbed Yuzuru by the hand and promptly dragged him to her hotel room upon sight when he had been in transit with Ryuju from Keiji and Shoma’s room. She had, apparently, been looking for him. He wondered why she hadn't grabbed him earlier at sign-up, or after the draw. She had seen him. Yuzuru had been aware of her staring at he had shifted uncomfortably in his chair because of the way the gauze itched.

She was sharing a room with a girl Yuzuru didn’t know well. The girl looked up from here phone as the door opened. She looked at Kanako, looked to Yuzuru, and looked at where Kanako was holding his hand.

“Hey, do you mind giving us a little time alone? Like...just go somewhere for an hour,” Kanako asked with a sweet smile.

The girl looked at Yuzuru, then back at Kanako, and raised an eyebrow. “Sure. Have fun. I’ll message you before I come back.”

“Thank you!” Kanako dragged Yuzuru into the room, urging him to sit on her bed, as the roommate left.

“Kana! She going to think we’re--”

“Yeah, well, I don’t care.” Kanako shrugged. “I wanted to speak to you privately.”

“She’ll gossip-”

“Oh, people have been saying stuff about us for years.” She rolled her eyes. “There’s worse things people could say.”

“I guess...” Yuzuru clears his throat, subtly trying to adjust how he’s sat to ease some of the pain in his stomach without drawing attention to it. “What did you want to talk about anyway?”

“I just wanted to see if you were okay,” Kanako said, eyes full of concern. “I meant to ask you at NHK but…”

“Um...Well, I’m okay now?” Yuzuru hesitated.

He didn’t want to tell anyone about his stomach; he didn’t need more people fussing over him. He didn’t want more people making excuses for him if he didn’t perform well in competition. He hated making excuses. His performance at NHK was bad because he wasn’t mentally strong enough, he didn’t want to use the excuse of his injuries after the crash. He hadn’t performed as well as he could have even with the injuries taken into account. There was no excuse for that.

Kanako looked at him as if she didn’t believe what he was saying, so he continued. “I’m not at my best yet, but I’ve recovered from the accident--”

“I’m not talking about that,” Kanako waved her hand dismissively. “I mean, about Javi.”

Yuzuru wrinkled his nose. How would she know if he and Javier had been distant? “What about Javi?”

“About Javi and Miki,” she said slowly.

Yuzuru frowned. “What about Javi and Miki?”

Something seemed to dawn in Kanako’s eyes. “You don’t know…” She whispered. She suddenly flashed between shock and confusion, then anger, “He didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” Yuzuru felt lost, but he also had a curl of dread building in his stomach, as if part of him knew what was coming but he didn’t want to accept it.

Kanako looked at him apologetically. It was as if it physically pained her to speak.

“Oh, I don’t want to tell you this. Not right before a competition.” She sighed, biting her lip, unhappiness radiating from her.

“Kana--”

“Javi is dating Miki. They confirmed it publicly a few weeks ago.”

Kanako chewed her lip, completely miserable as she watched the realisation settle in Yuzuru's eyes. It took a moment.

“Oh.” Yuzuru’s throat suddenly felt very dry. The words hadn’t sunk in. He felt numb.

“I thought you knew. I thought Javi would have told you or that you would have seen someone talking about it somewhere and I thought you were looking kind of unhappy so I just sort of assumed you knew--” Kanako spoke quickly, desperately. “And at NHK Taka told me you were really upset but I just didn’t have a chance to talk to you alone-”

Yes, Yuzuru remembered Kanako looking at his edgily through gala rehearsals, wanting to get him alone. And at the banquet, she had tried to talk to him privately but backed down when he told her he just wanted to sleep. He had thought she had wanted to ask him about the accident like everyone else had ever since it happened.  


“I’m so stupid.”  


Yuzuru took a deep breath, letting the silence build between them as Kanako abruptly stopped talking. He could feel his hands were shaking. It had finally sunk in, and it ripped through him like a knife. 

Javier had been acting weird, had become more distant, stopped hanging out with him. Javier had never told Yuzuru that they were together. ‘ _I don’t date guys_ ,’ he had said. ‘ _Let’s just have fun together_ ,’ he had said. Why hadn’t Yuzuru realised? Why had he clung on so tightly to every time Javier had said he was special, every time he had said ‘ _I really like you_ ’, but tossed away every time Javier had tried to tell him that all they were was a bit of fun for the summer? Why had he held on so tightly to every touch and kiss but ignored every time Javier had looked away or turned his back on him?

The reality hit him like a physical blow. He let out a long, shaky breath. His throat seemed to close up, aching from the effort of holding back the tears that clung to his eyelashes.

“I’m so stupid,” he repeated in a hoarse whisper. He was more talking to himself than to Kanako. He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe he had been deluding himself the whole time.

He almost wanted to laugh. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted to run away and hide, lock himself in a quiet room and never come out again.

It was like a lens clicked in front of his eyes, and he could see all the little things he had been ignoring in favour of believing that he and Javier were together. All the little signs that Javier had been drawing their relationship to a close, the subtle shifts in how they interacted with each other that moved backwards - to how they were before, erasing the time they had been together as if it never happened. As if it never mattered.

He remembered the conversation in Canada, after NHK. He had thought Javier was just sorry he couldn’t be there to support him, that they hadn’t spoken while Yuzuru was in Japan. He thought the lack of communication Javier was talking about was the way they never discussed how to deal with their new relationship as they transitioned from the summer to the competitive season.  Yuzuru replays the conversation in his mind, every line, every flicker of relief on Javier’s face, realising that they were having two separate conversations at once.

  
Javier had thought the silence between them after the accident was a symptom, not a cause, of Yuzuru being angry with him. Yuzuru hadn’t been angry because he hadn’t wanted to talk anyway, and wasn’t aware he might have another reason to be upset. When they had been talking about their relationship with each other, Javier had been talking about friendship. Yuzuru had been talking about love. Both of them said things the other wanted to hear, enough that they could ignore the signs that they weren't talking about the same thing.

That probably hurt more - that Javier had tried to tell him, tried to communicate with him, but Yuzuru had missed it every single time. Javier, like Kanako, had assumed that Yuzuru had heard about his new relationship while in Japan. He hadn't known Yuzuru had stopped going on the internet after the accident, not wanting to see what people were saying about it. How would he know that?

Yuzuru realised that that hadn't been the first time Javier had subtly tried to check that Yuzuru understood their relationship was just a short-term thing. It also wasn’t the first time Yuzuru had accidentally made it seem like he did, as he continued to convince himself otherwise.

Yuzuru had thought his feelings were clear, even if he never said them directly. He didn’t doubt that Javier thought the same.

‘ _Let’s just have fun together_ ’, those words spun around Yuzuru’s mind. He thought about every time they had laughed into each other’s mouths, how happy he had been at the time. He thought about every time Javier had touched him, every time he had made Yuzuru throw back his head in pleasure, every time Yuzuru had been on his knees with Javier’s fingers tangled in his hair. His stomach turned. He felt sick. Was that all it meant to Javier? _Fun_ .  
Yuzuru thought about the first time they had sex, and all the times after; Yuzuru gasping against Javier’s cheek as he rocked himself down onto his lap, Javier kissing Yuzuru’s shoulder as he pressed his face into the pillow to stop himself from crying out. He had never let anyone else touch him like that, see him like that. He thought of how Javier would kiss him, the care he took with Yuzuru’s body. Was that tenderness, the intimacy, an illusion? We're all the feelings Yuzuru had all one-sided? Every single time had just been Javier having some fun? The lump in his throat seemed to grow. **_Fun_ ** .  
What about all the times afterwards; when Javier would caress Yuzuru’s cheek gently, or stroke lightly at his hip, or gently kiss his forehead? What about all the moments in between, the lazy moments sprawled out on Javier’s sofa? Or the time Yuzuru tried to make pancakes and Javier had laughed when each attempt ranged from too thick and uncooked to too thin and burnt black, or a million other small moments where Javier had looked at Yuzuru in a way that made his breath catch in his throat, and his heart beat a little faster? Was it all nothing? What about the times Yuzuru had looked into Javier’s eyes, with ‘ _I love you_ ’ on the tip of his tongue, and saw the emotion silently answered back to him? Had he imagined that?

Yuzuru let the first tears run down his cheeks. He was crushed. He felt so stupid, so naive. How could he have placed so much meaning on touches and gestures that were nothing? How had he misread everything Javier did and said so horribly? He felt his heart shattering as if it were a real, physical pain. Giving into it, he gasped and let out a broken wail as he covered he face with his hands and began to sob. He wanted to lean forwards, but his stomach hurt too much to allow it.

Kanako put her arms around him, pulling him down, so he sobbed on her shoulder. He made no effort to quieten his sobs, and she didn’t try to shush him. She just held him, let him cry, stroked the back of his head lightly to try to soothe him. She lay her cheek on top of his head, her fingertips lightly running over the back of his head. It was a habit he had since he was small, whenever he was overwhelmed he would touch his hair or face to try to calm himself. She knew that. She knew everything about him. He tried to focus on that, his hands curling against her back, as his crying became quieter. Just shallow, jumpy breaths and small whimpers, Kanako’s fingers gently and slowly smoothing over his hair. He thought of every time he had woken up to Javier’s fingertips gently playing with his hair, amused at his hair’s habit of sticking out in every direction in the morning. Yuzuru’s heart ached.

When he sat up, there was a damp spot on her shoulder. Her eyes looked watery and wet. Yuzuru felt hollow.

Yuzuru knew that he had to put on a mask now. He would have to hide how much he hurt. No one knew about this except for Kanako, and he couldn't confront Javier when he had already, unwittingly, told Javier everything was fine and they’d still be friends. He had questions that would never have answers. He would never know what Javier had felt for him if anything at all. He would never know if Javier knew Yuzuru loved him. He would never know if it had always been a game.

Yuzuru numbly realised that Brian, to some extent, must also know, and he felt a degree of shame but also humiliation. That was why he had asked if Yuzuru wanted to avoid Javier before the Final. Had he seen that Yuzuru had been too deeply invested in a relationship that barely existed?

He couldn’t allow himself to feel the hurt right now, so he embraced the emptiness instead. Brian, Yuzuru decided, couldn’t discover that Yuzuru had only just now found out the reality of his relationship with Javier. Brian, Yuzuru decided, could not know the depth of how deeply it wounded him.

It was bad enough that Brian was treating him gently for the sake of the surgery he had to undergo once the competition was over. He didn’t need his coach fearing for his emotional well-being too.

There was also the fear that Brian would, potentially, be angry at Javier. Despite how much he hurt, he still didn’t want anything bad to happen to Javier. It wasn’t his fault Yuzuru had fallen in love with him despite all the warnings not to. He had already suffered at the hands of a coach that played favourites. Yuzuru would not potentially put him into a similar position.

He would have to lie. He would have put on a brave face. His heartache could not leave the room with him. It had to remain a secret between himself and Kanako, never to be spoken of.

Yuzuru was lying about his condition anyway. He was already hiding the physical pain of his stomach, the itchy gauze and the leaking wound. He would have to hide his heartbreak too.

He had no choice.

  
He went back to his room feeling empty, exhausted. Ryuju looked up at him as he entered, a mischievous smile being instantly wiped from his face upon seeing Yuzuru’s puffy red eyes and tear-streaked face. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Just tired,” Yuzuru said, not looking at him. “I’m fine. Just need to sleep.”

He couldn’t sleep. When the lights were turned off, he lay staring at the ceiling. His stomach too uncomfortable, his mind too unsettled. He closed his eyes but struggled to get any rest.

 

Yuzuru tried to focus on little things. He focused on his warm up before they would practice on the ice. He focused on making sure the gauze on his belly was secure, resigning himself to the fact he would need to use a layer of duct tape over the top and suffer the inevitable rash later. He tried not to focus on the shooting pain in his stomach whenever he moved, or how empty he felt, or the sadness that hung over him like a dark cloud.

He tried, he tried, to act normal. He tried to act like nothing was wrong. He forced smiles and tried to laugh. He distracted himself from feeling by talking to anyone who would engage him. Each short conversation, every interaction with anyone, was a little performance. And once the scene was done his face would fall, from a forced smile to expressionless, blank.

He could tell he was doing a poor job of convincing everyone he was _Just Fine_ from with way Keiji looked at him from across the room, turning to Ryuju to whisper something rapidly, just getting just a shrug in response. He could tell by the odd look in Tatsuki’s eyes as he passed him, the way Takahito occasionally looked concerned. The way Daisuke took it upon himself to ask if he was okay.

“Are you nervous?” He asked, a little confused. The Grand Prix final hadn’t been long ago, and he had been happy with his nerves under control, suddenly he was flitting between chatty and silent, his expression was sporadically dark, and his movements were laboured.

“I'm fine,” Yuzuru lied.

  
Daisuke wasn’t the only one to confuse Yuzuru’s attempts to act bubbly and upbeat for excessive nerves. Brian had repeatedly tried to calm him, confused as to why Yuzuru was so anxious so suddenly.

“Don’t worry too much about your stomach,” Brian told him, assuming that was the problem. “Just take it easy, don’t do anything that causes a lot of pain and we’ll get you fixed and healthy when this is over.”

Yuzuru had nodded, playing along. It was better he thought Yuzuru was nervous about his health rather than the truth.

 

Practice was nothing spectacular. Not awful, not wonderful. Yuzuru tested his jumps, falling on a few, feelings as if he had a fishing hook through his navel with the awkward pain which accompanied anything that engaged his core. His run through had mistakes. His focus started to slip part way through.

Yuzuru sat down in the locker room, frustrated with himself. He was being stupid. He needed to push through. He needed to just _skate_ without other things getting to him. If he were a stronger person, if he weren't so weak minded, he would be able to skate well regardless of whatever was going on in his life. He needed to be _stronger_.  


Shoma sat next to Yuzuru quietly. It surprised Yuzuru a little, to be approached by Shoma at all. He was usually very shy, very awkward around Yuzuru, especially without Keiji there to make Shoma feel more at ease and able to socialise. Shoma looked at him for a moment and looked away.

“I really like skating,” Shoma started, voice quiet. “I like competing. I like that when you step on the ice, nothing else matters. Schoolwork doesn’t matter, an argument you had with your parents doesn’t matter. Only skating matters.”

Yuzuru glances at him, wondering why Shoma was saying this, what the point was. Shoma’s big eyes were downturned, looking at his fidgeting hands.

“When I’m sad, or I’m angry or stressed I like to pretend I’m folding up those feelings with my clothes and putting them in my locker. I leave those feelings in the locker room. I don’t take them on the ice with me. If I had a bad practice before a competition, I try to leave it at the side of the rink. I have enough to think about with all my steps and choreography and stuff. It’s better to leave any heavy feelings somewhere else for a while.”

Shoma looked up, casting his eyes in Yuzuru’s direction. There was a slight tension to him as if bracing himself for what he was about to say next.Yuzuru got the impression Shoma was embarrassed by what he was saying but didn't know how else to get the sentiment across.

“If you want, you can put your heavy feelings in my locker too? That way they won’t hold you down when it’s time to skate.”

Yuzuru felt something inside him melt. Shoma looked so earnest it made Yuzuru ache. This was easily the most Shoma had ever spoken to Yuzuru, definitely the first time Shoma had reached out to him, and it was a pure-hearted attempt to lift an obviously miserable Yuzuru enough for him to compete.

Yuzuru looked down at his hands. He felt the mask slip a little. He bit his lip to stop it from trembling.

Shoma looked down again bashfully. “You seem down lately.” He swung his legs, awkwardly scuffing the toes of his sneakers against the floor. “It’s kind of weird. I don’t like it. I’m used to seeing you smiling and laughing. I hope you can smile again soon.”

Yuzuru looked back at Shoma, his breath catching oddly in his chest. It was sweet of Shoma to care, to want to try to make him feel better. He didn’t know how to respond.

“Even though we are competing against each other here, I’m still cheering for you,” Shoma said gently.

Yuzuru reached out to touch Shoma, hand closing over his shoulder. He didn’t know what else to do. The sentiment touched him and was that little bit more powerful coming from someone like Shoma, who was usually not so free with his feelings.

It did help, a little bit, to know someone he didn’t expect cared about him. Yuzuru gave his shoulder a little squeeze. “I’m still cheering for you too.”

 

Skating was a catharsis. A welcomed distraction. A touchstone of normality when Yuzuru felt like his world had been flipped on its head. The only area of his life, it seemed, where he still had some control, and things could go right. The piano music for his short program seemed sombre to him now, matching his mood. He was able to save his combination jump, but he had messed up the lutz, and lost concentration on the step sequence so, ultimately, dropped the level there again. His free was better, but the fall on the quad sal had him landing belly-first on the ice, and the pain was intense, making his spin sloppy. He fought through, focused on each step as he did it, each element as it approached. Not perfect, but enough.

 

Shoma stood next to him on the podium, holding silver, looking at Yuzuru from the corner of his eye a little awkwardly. Yuzuru smiled at him weakly, the first genuine smile he had managed since the competition started. “Thank you.”

Shoma looked a little bewildered.

“For keeping my heavy feelings for me,” Yuzuru said. “Thank you.”

Shoma’s cheeks turned a vivid shade of pink.

 

Yuzuru withdrew from the gala and left immediately.

 

How many things could go wrong in a single season?

Yuzuru stared at the ceiling. He had been released from the hospital to rest at home after his surgery. He was glad to be in his own bed in the comfort of his childhood home. He hated hospitals.

The surgery had been an ordeal, to say the least. It had been painful. He had reactions to the alcohol used to sanitise his skin _and_ the anaesthetic. He had an angry rash on his back, and his entire body was covered in hives. He had to rest for at least two weeks.

Honestly, Yuzuru saw it as a kind of blessing. Last time he was held up in his bed, unable to walk, he had wanted to talk with his family, wanted the comfort. Now he just wanted to be left alone, and they respected that. If he needed something, he could get it. If he needed food, he could get it. He wasn’t reliant on anyone.

So he could stay in his room, on his bed, unmoving, simply letting himself process what was happening in his life and feel the full extent of his misery the way he hadn’t been able to before. He replayed the conversation with Kanako and thought back on every good time he had with Javier. His memories of the summer now tainted with a bitter taste at the back of his throat and sadness that stabbed at his chest.  
He was grateful, to have the time to cry alone.

_ > Congratulations, champion! _

_ > I forgot to wish you happy birthday! I owe you cake! xx _

_ > I wish you would stop skating when you are hurt. _

_ > Hope you are okay. x _

_ > I guess I’ll see you when we both get back to Toronto… _

Yuzuru couldn’t respond to any of Javier’s message. Every word stung. He held onto his phone and cried for the relationship he never really had. He couldn’t bring himself to blame Javier. Yuzuru blamed himself entirely. He should have known better.

Yuzuru took the time to feel the depth of his heartbreak because he knew that once he went back to Canada, he had to hide it, bury it, never let it show.

He had two weeks to mourn the relationship he never really had.

 

Training was all that mattered.

Yuzuru realised that what Shoma had told him, in his clumsy efforts to comfort Yuzuru without knowing what was wrong, was half true. When Yuzuru got on the ice nothing else mattered. When he trained nothing else mattered. His heartache couldn't matter. His frustration at all of the setbacks he had to deal with since October didn't matter. Javier’s looming return from Europe didn't matter. Only training mattered.

Yuzuru wouldn't let himself think about anything else. He kept himself busy. Because if his mind was full of school work and a deepened obsession with training for Worlds, he couldn't think about Javier.

On the nights where it was hard to sleep without remembering how it felt to have Javier next to him, Yuzuru threw himself into video games until he was too tired to think or dream about anything. He would wake up late, hair a bird's nest on his head, and throw himself into training before he could think about anything else.

 

Brian had offered, again, to rearrange schedules, so Yuzuru and Javier didn't have to see each other quite so much.

Yuzuru refused with a defiant shake of his head. “I just want normal routine. New routine will make me nervous.”

 

When Javier was in training at the same time as Yuzuru, it was clear he was also striving for normality, though for different reasons.

It was the same as it always had been. Yuzuru would come early and do off-ice training. Nam would talk at lightening speed about school, or a computer game or his practice the day before and Yuzuru would try to follow him. He would head out onto the ice, warm up, start some jump practice. Javier would stroll in late, holding a coffee, watch Yuzuru for a while, and then get himself on the ice and train so hard you forgot that he had entered the rink so casually.

There was something comforting in the familiarity of the routine, but it also made Yuzuru ache. He missed when they would race around the rink when Javier would catch him around the waist and spin him around. He missed laughing as Javier tickled his sides feeling, his innocent crush budding into a stronger feeling. Now he had to ignore Javier in efforts to remain focused on what he was doing. If Javier had done any of those things Yuzuru used to like so much, it would just rub salt into the wound.

Javier tried. Yuzuru could see that he was trying. Whenever Yuzuru would take a break, Javier still came over to try to talk. Yuzuru would answer him, but his responses were short, clipped. Whenever Javier put a hand on Yuzuru's shoulder, he was shrugged away.

“Are you angry at me?” Javier asked, confused.

“No.” Yuzuru didn't look at him. “Just focus on Worlds.”

 

He wasn't sure if he was angry with Javier or not. Mostly he was angry with himself. Yuzuru didn't want to lash out at Javier. He wanted to pretend everything was normal and fine but he felt too raw, the pain too fresh. Javier's attempts at being friendly just made Yuzuru consider how, if Kanako hadn't told him the truth, he would have misread and misunderstood it as some act of romantic affection and carried on believing that something existed between them. He withdrew, he focused on training, he tried not to let Javier's presence distract him. As a result, the mood between them turned chilly. Javier, repeatedly reaching out to him. Yuzuru, repeatedly turning away.

 

He felt it as soon as he landed, his ankle was in the wrong position, the blade slipped, and his muscles tense to try to correct the position. Big mistake. The blade slipped further, the full weight of Yuzuru’s body came down on the ankle plus the force of the jump. His ankle folded, and he fell to the ice with a yelp of pain. He knew, immediately, that his ankle was, at best, sprained.

Javier skated over, reaching out to help Yuzuru up. “Are you okay?”

Yuzuru winced when he tried to move his left ankle, ignoring him.

Javier persisted. “Come on; I’ll help you up--”

“Don’t touch me!” Yuzuru burst out, brushing Javier’s hand away before he could touch Yuzuru’s arm. “You don’t need to help me.”

Brian came to a stop beside them. Yuzuru reached out for him immediately to be helped to his feet, careful to not put his weight on his right foot. Javier looked taken aback from the rejection.

“I think ankle is hurt,” Yuzuru grumbled, ignoring Javier’s stricken expression.

“Okay, let’s get you to a bench, we’ll take a look,” Brian said. He shot Javier an edgy, almost apologetic glance. “Get back to practice.”

 

Ankle strapped, mother on her way to take him to the hospital just to check the ankle wasn't fractured or broken, Yuzuru used the emergency crutches Brian had hanging around for such an occasion.

Another minor injury. Another thing going wrong. Another week or two unable to skate, with another competition on the horizon. Yuzuru was beyond frustrated.

He slammed his locker shut and banged his it's against the door. He was sick of this.

 

> _I'm still here for you. If you need someone x_

Yuzuru broke. He hated seeing Javier’s face every time pushed his hand away, his mouth downturned and eyes looking hurt. He hated the confusion on Javier’s face, knowing that as far as he knew Yuzuru had understood the nature of their summer fling and was fine with Javier moving on to someone else. Yuzuru had been warm and friendly in Barcelona and now was suddenly cold and distant.

He wished he could lean on Javier, hold him, but that wouldn't take his pain away anymore. He'd have to be stronger and learn to stand on his own.

 

“How’s your ankle?” Javier asked, approaching Yuzuru cautiously. The sprain healed, but Yuzuru felt a little uneasy on it still. He had a few weeks to get surer on it before they were back in competition. The last major competition of the year.

Yuzuru had managed to hold onto his Grand Prix title despite the accident; he had managed to hold onto his national title despite his stomach… he would try, at least, to hold onto his world title despite his ankle, all the disruptions to his training and the lingering distraction of a broken heart.

“It's okay,” Yuzuru said flatly, not daring to look at him.

“And you? How are you?” Javier sounded almost desperate.

Yuzuru raised his eyes. “I'll be okay.”

Javier put his arms around him. Yuzuru stood with his arms hanging limply by his sides but didn't pull away, letting Javier hold him.

“I know you've had a rough year,” Javier mumbled. “And it's just got a bit much. It will get better, okay?”

Yuzuru nodded stiffly. He didn't trust himself to speak.

  
He thawed a little. Slowly. But it didn't mean the pain went away. He forced himself to not be snappy whenever Javier talked to him. He forced himself to laugh at the jokes Javier whispered in his ear. He forced himself until it got easier for laughter to come naturally, short conversations to come with ease, smiles and eye contact were something he could do without a conscious effort. He forced himself until the stab of heartache whenever he was around Javier became a dull throb. It was something he could tuck away and hide. Something he could save for when Javier’s back was turned, and use a fuel for further training. A private pain he kept to himself, to feel only as he lay in the dark before he slept.

 

Being back in Shanghai was strange, but it also felt like the perfect time for revenge. The last time he had skated at Shanghai, it had been a disaster, and he had left with the feeling that he hadn’t deserved the points he was rewarded. This time, he thought, he would earn every point he received.  He would leave no room, give no reason, for judges to give him points out of pity.

Yuzuru was happy to see Misha again, to see Han again, to see some of the American skaters he had missed entirely in the Grand Prix events. At the draw, Jason bounded up to him like a happy labrador. Yuzuru was grateful for his infectious joy that was innate to him. It eased his nerves at least a little bit.

 

Yuzuru kept an eye on his competitors out of habit. He liked to know when he went out onto the ice, the sort of result he needed to achieve.

He had smiled at Brian before he knelt down, tapping the boards and pushing off. Javier was the one to beat. He had skating the short program he had wanted to show to Barcelona, but was too nervous to achieve. 92.74. Yuzuru got into position and closed his eyes.

He fell on his quad, but recovered. If his grades of execution were high enough, if he hadn’t dropped the level on the steps, if his second mark was good enough, he should be able to knock Javier down the second. Brian grinned at him as he came off the ice, in a good mood. Yuzuru picked up his Pooh, waving the stubby arm at the crowd. Yuzuru liked to crowd in Shanghai - they had been kind to him last time too, their cheers and silent prayers for him had pushed him through his doomed free. Now, he just hoped he could repay them, show performances that suitably thanked them for their support. **_95.20_ **. Yuzuru smiled. He would still have to work in the free, but he had a lead. Unless Maxim landed all of his planned jumps.

Yuzuru winced at Maxim’s skate, feeling awful for the last skater as he hung his head at his score.

 

Yuzuru clung to his Pooh as he made his way back to the locker room. Javier bounced a soft toy off his head.

“Look, I got a Tigger!” Javier grinned, displaying the soft toy happily.

“Very cute,” Yuzuru murmured, wrinkling his nose when Javier saw fit to bop him on it with the plush’s head.

“Because he is a friend of Pooh.”

“Yes I know,” Yuzuru said. “The crazy friend.”

Javier, affronted, bopped Yuzuru on the nose again.

 

Skating third was one on Yuzuru’s least favourite positions. He liked to skate first or last, skating in the middle of the group felt uncomfortable. He had the pressure of the two who skated before him, and the three to go after him.

Realistically, he knew it would come down to himself or Javier, so long as they both outscored Denis.

For a moment, Yuzuru thought he might have failed to do just that, by making a mess of his first two jumps. Failing to get four rotations on his salchow was a more costly mistake than falling on his toe loop, but they were both hits to his points he did not need. He refocused as he entered his first spin, and proceeded to skate the rest of his program the way it should have been. He was disappointed with his mistakes. He wondered if it would be enough.

He sat alone as he waited for his score, preoccupying himself by blowing kisses via his stuffed toy to the audible delight of the crowd. 175.88. A total of 271.08. First place.

He sees Javier take to the ice and, partially out of habit, shouts out.

“Go Javi!”

Yuzuru greeted Denis with a smile backstage, taking a seat on the provided sofa, wary of the cameras pointed at them. He watched Javier with his stomach twisting nervously.

He fell. Once. Most of his jumps looked like he barely landed them, but he landed them. Yuzuru chews his lip. The difference could be in execution, but Yuzuru got more deductions, made more mistakes. He only had a 2.5 point lead in the short program. If Javier got more than 177, Yuzuru had lost.

 **181.16**.

Yuzuru had lost his title. He lost the world championship. It was like being kicked in the ribs.

Yuzuru clapped, smiling at the look of complete shock on Javier’s face, the strange sounds he made when he realised he had won. The last two skaters couldn’t, realistically, make up the ground they would need to take over either Yuzuru or Javier. Only Denis’ spot was possibly in contention, and even that was unlikely.

Javier had won. Yuzuru knew there were no excuses to be made. He hadn’t lost because he had sprained his ankle a few weeks ago, or because he had to have surgery in December, or because he had spent the first half of the season battered and bruised. Javier had trained hard. He trained harder than Yuzuru. He had skated better. It was that simple.  
  


Yuzuru stood up as Javier entered the room and threw his arms around Javier’s neck. Javier held him tightly.

“Congratulations,” Yuzuru whispered. The loss seemed to hit him again. Tears flowed from his eyes without him realising it. He pulled back, but as soon as Javier saw the tears, he pulled him back. Yuzuru buried his face into Javier’s jacket, embarrassed. Javier stroked the back of his head, leaning back to look at Yuzuru, smiling at him warmly. His thumbs ran lightly over Yuzuru’s cheeks.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry,” Javier whispered. His voice was so gentle it made Yuzuru’s heart clench painfully.

“I'm not crying,” Yuzuru lied, shaking his head. “I’m not crying. I’m happy for you.”

“I know. It’s okay.” Javier stroked the back of his head, smiling warmly at Yuzuru. “It’s okay. Don’t cry.”

Javier pressed their foreheads together, hands alternating from lightly stroking through Yuzuru’s hair to soothe him, and swiping away his tears with his thumbs. Their faces were so close, Javier’s smile and voice were so gentle. Yuzuru felt a little overwhelmed. It wasn’t just the disappointment of losing, the conflicted feeling of wanting to be happy for Javier while also feeling so bitterly defeated, but an ache of longing, the pieces of his broken heart stirring. He wanted so much not to love Javier. He wanted to discard that love as easily as Javier had discarded him. He wanted to forget anything had ever happened between them and forget that he had ever wanted more. He wanted to pick up the pieces of his heart and move on as easily as Javier had. But Javier was so caring, so affectionate, so close. Yuzuru couldn’t help but imagine if he had been clearer with how he had felt, if Javier never started dating Miki, if they were together the way Yuzuru wanted. Nothing would change, Javier would still be wiping his tears, telling him not to cry, but Yuzuru would lean forward and kiss him, instead of just yearning to, and the love he felt would be a joy, not torture.

“I won this time, but in my heart you are always champion,” Javier whispers, wiping another tear with his thumb. Yuzuru half laughs and half sobs, his heart breaking all over again.

They had been so tense, so distant. Yuzuru had been so hurt, so bitter, so wanting to be angry but he realised he didn’t want to lose Javier completely. It would hurt, for a while, but he didn’t want to lose the friendship they had. He would bare the pain, but he wanted this. He wanted Javier, in any way he could have him. Even as just a friend.

“I’m happy for you,” Yuzuru said again, managing a smile. Javier hugged him close.

From now, Yuzuru promised himself; he would at least try to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always appreciated!  
> I've been a little nervous about this chapter.


	8. Avoidance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuzuru deals with his feelings and tries to find a balance.

**Avoidance**

  
World team trophy was a strange event. It was still ISU sactioned, so the scores still counted, and it was the only event outside of the Olympics where skaters got to compete in teams, but it was an event no one really took seriously. It didn’t take itself seriously either, with the skaters encouraged to do cheers for their team mates and the team with the best cheers getting an award for ‘spirit’. It was meant to be a little bit of fun, to end the season on a happy note before the off-season and everyone started focusing on the next season.

Yuzuru wanted, in a way, to use it as a last chance to show his programs at their best, to shake off the doom that had been following him all year so that he could start fresh the next year. He wanted the season to, at least, end with some pride, some smiles. Even if he was still feeling the fatigue, the disappointment, from Worlds.

 

Kanako flopped onto Yuzuru’s hotel bed, getting herself comfortable and taking a large mouthful of her soda. Yuzuru glared at her half-heartedly.

“If you spill that on my bed you are dead.”

She, predictably, mocked him by pretending to pour the soda over his pillow and laughed at his grimace.

“Do you know what you’re doing for next season yet?” She asked, taking another sip of her drink.

Yuzuru envied the way she could allow herself to drink stuff like that before a competition. He logically knew a little thing like a fizzy drink the day before a performance wouldn't really affect him, but he tended to be careful with everything he ate and drank as soon as he arrived at wherever the competition was taking place until the competition was over. Nothing fizzy, or sugary, or caffeinated, or oily, or rich, or heavy, or spicy. He always got too anxious to risk straying from water and light, bland meals. He could never be sure that something small could make him blow a program.

“Yeah, I’ve thought about it.” Yuzuru sat primly in front of where she was sprawled. “I’m going to keep my short program. I haven’t met it’s potential yet.”

Kanako pulled a face as if to say ‘ _of course_ ’, but nodded. “Gives you more time to work on a good free anyway.”

Yuzuru nodded. “Yeah. I think I know what music I want. I just need to talk to Brian about it.”

Kanako hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’ve decided what I’m doing yet.”

“There’s loads of time.”

“Yeah,” Kanako smiled gently. “How are you feeling anyway?”

Yuzuru shrugged. “Fine. I’m ready for this season to be over.”

“Yeah me too,” Kanako grimaced and put her drink down on the bedside table. “Hopefully you can have some fun here.”

Yuzuru sighed. “Hopefully.”

Kanako's eyes suddenly turned a little mischievous. “Did Han send you that picture you took together? Can I see it?”

“Sure.” Yuzuru handed his phone to her, not sure why she wanted to see the photo. It wasn’t anything special. Han had beckoned him close after the opening ceremony and snapped it, grinning widely to the camera before clumsily telling Yuzuru he hoped they would both have a fun competition.

Kanaka snatched the phone from his hands and cooed. “You two look so good together.”

Yuzuru narrowed his eyes. Kanako was never a particularly subtle person. “Kana-”

“What? Didn't Han invite you out to dinner? Did you ever go?” Kanako asked, smiling pleasantly, leaning forwards, putting the phone down on the bed.

“Where did you even hear that?”

“Oh, Misha said something about how he thought you two would go out at worlds and he wasn't up for playing translator,” she said casually, but her face was eager. “Did you?”

Yuzuru frowned a little bit. “No? I was too depressed about losing my title.”

Kanako tutted at him in disappointment. “Well, this isn't a serious competition--”

“All competitions are serious,” Yuzuru muttered.

Kanako glared at him and continued, “--And you're bound to wipe the floor with the other men here anyway. You should take him somewhere nice, celebrate the end of the season with him.”

Yuzuru stared at her, knowing exactly what she was getting at. “I don't think so.”

“Why not? He's handsome.”

“He's handsome,” Yuzuru admitted with a shrug. “But--”

Kanako swiftly interrupted him, eyes glittering with excitement at the idea of playing match-maker. “And you’re interested him, right? I noticed you were kinda flirty.”

Yuzuru felt his face heat up at the suggestion. Did he seem like he was flirting without meaning to? He was mortified. Also he felt a little nervous that maybe he wasn’t as discreet as he had always thought he was. “I-Wha- When?”

Kanako took note of his stammering, and the blush rising in his cheeks and squealed. “Oh, you do like him!”

“I've not really thought about it.” Yuzuru pouted, knowing she would tease him all week for this, reguardless of whether or not her conclusion was true.

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes. “If he asked you out would you say yes?”

“Sure,” Yuzuru said, humouring her.

Kanako grinned wickedly. “And you'd let him feel you up?”

“Kana!” Yuzuru laughed, deciding not to answer that question at all. “You’re awful.”

Kanako cackled. “Take him out! Get a drink with him or something!”

“I can't drink alcohol,” He reminded her with a small smile. “I’d get fall-down drunk before we got past small talk.”

“You don't have to drink alcohol just take him out,” Kanako urged.

“I don't speak Chinese; he doesn't speak Japanese. His English is worse than _mine_.”

“So?” Kanako rolled her eyes again.  “I'm not trying to get you married I'm trying to get you _laid_.”

“Kana!” Yuzuru batted at her shoulder lightly, both of them laughing loudly.  “You shouldn’t say stuff like that!”

Kanako grinned, calming down a little. “You can just go on a little date, have a good time and move on. Han seems like a good guy.”

“Honestly I'm pretty sure he's straight, just friendly,” Yuzuru told her with a little shake of his head.

She scrunches her face dismissively. “I thought the same about Javier.”

Yuzuru's mood suddenly plummeted, his shoulders falling forward, smile promptly wiped off his face. Javier. Any reminder of their relationship stung. It had been fun to laugh and talk about boys, even if it felt a bit like they had transformed into teenage girls. Suddenly it wasn't fun anymore.

Kanako noticed and sighed. “Yuzuru-”

“Drop it, Kanako,” He said flatly. He no longer wanted to be part of this conversation.

“You need to get over him,” She said stiffly. “He's an ass, and you deserve better.”

“He's not an ass,” Yuzuru mumbled.

“I dunno, messing around with you for months then not even having the decency to dump you before getting a girlfriend seems like an ass to me,” Kanako said sharply, with a little disgruntled pout.

“That's not what happened.” Yuzuru shook his head, looking down. “I'm just a moron.”

“He’s an ass for stringing you along. You need to stop blaming yourself--”

“And blame him instead?” Yuzuru frowned, looking back up at her. “Sure. I could get mad at him; I could be jealous of Miki, I could have a big fight with him and run crying to Brian about how Javi broke my heart. What would that achieve?”

Kanako said nothing. Yuzuru shook his head again. “I don’t want to be in a position where I maybe have to leave Brian because things got too awkward with Javi. I don’t want to have a big public falling out with him and have everyone asking the both of us why we aren’t friends and have to be afraid that one day he’ll answer and everyone will know that I fell in love with him and was devastated when he got a girlfriend. ”

“Yuzu-”

“It would be so easy for me to be jealous and angry and lash out of him,” Yuzuru’s voice became shaky. “But it’s better for me if I don’t do that. I _have_ to pretend I’m not hurt, that nothing happened. Because if I don’t, it will make everyone’s life harder.”

“I get that,” Kanako said, uncomfortable, opening her mouth to say something else.

“You need to drop it,” Yuzuru repeated, cutting her off. “He’s going to be here for the gala; we’re doing shows together in the summer. You need to keep your anger to yourself too.”

Kanako scowled. “I won’t claw his eyes out, but I’m making no promises to play nice with him.”

“Kana, please.”

“No, no way. I hate him. I have never seen you cry the way you did when-” She took a breath, closing her eyes as if to gather herself. “You keep saying that you should’ve known better, but he is older than you. He’s known you for years now. _He_ should have known better.”

“Maybe,” Yuzuru half-agreed. “But we both made mistakes.”

“But he _hurt_ you. He’s fine. You’re the one still broken up about it. I’ll never forgive him. Even if you can force yourself to be friendly with him, I can’t.”

“I have to be friendly with him,” Yuzuru said emphatically. “I _want_ to be friendly with him. He might have hurt me, but I still want him as a friend. Quit acting like that’s a bad thing.”

“It is a bad thing if you are still in love with him and won’t let that go,” Kanako hissed.

“So your solution is for me to casually hook up with other skaters?”

“My solution is you start moving on and seeing other people,” Kanako said curtly.

“Like who? I don’t exactly have a wide selection of people to choose from,” Yuzuru grumbled. “And you’re trying to set me up with straight guys.”

Kanako made a frustrated sound. “This would be so much easier if you liked girls.”

“Sorry,” Yuzuru said sarcastically.

“I just mean, I could casually suggest you were in need of a nice girl to ease a broken heart, and you would have a line outside your hotel door within minutes.”

Yuzuru grimaced. “That’s terrifying.”

Kanako ignored him. “I just don’t know many...gay guys.” She paused, seemingly running a list through her mind. “That are our age. And single. And you might be interested in.”

“Neither do I,” Yuzuru sighed dramatically. “It’s a tragedy.”

They looked at each other for a moment and, the previous tension effectively broken, burst out laughing.

 

The pressure was relatively low, for a competition. For the most Yuzuru just wanted to not make a fool out of himself and at least somewhat live up to what was expected of him. In that respect, he succeeded, even if he did not manage to have flawless or particularly remarkable performances. It was a pleasant enough way to part with his free program and a satisfactory final performance of the season.

He let himself have fun by cheering for his teammates when he could. He watched the other skaters, glad for the opportunity to do so. He looked across at where the Chinese team sat, cheering for Zijun as she readied herself for her free skate. Han caught his eye and grinned, waving his flags at Yuzuru. Yuzuru smiled and gave a little fist pump- something Han later returned to him, when it was Kanako’s turn to skate.

Yuzuru considered Kanako’s urging, to maybe try just having a little fun with someone.

It felt like a mistake. It felt like too big of a risk. It felt too soon. Even if she was right and Han was interested, which Yuzuru severely doubted, he could barely bring himself to consider it. He wondered numbly if it was more or less risky to casually hook up with another skater in competition or any other guy he could meet in a bar.

Either option seemed dangerous. Javier had felt safe. It seemed he was fresh out of safe options, other than being alone.

He could be alone. Maybe it was better from him. He couldn’t deal with all the distractions. He needed to focus on his training, on his skating. He couldn’t have other things leading him off course.

The competition ended with bronze. Takahito patted Yuzuru on the back as they posed for photos.

“It was fun, right?” Takahito asked with a smile.

“Yeah, it was fun.”

 

Gala practice was where Yuzuru started to pinpoint exactly why it was so hard for him to let his feelings for Javier go. It was natural that Javier would be invited to the gala, despite him not competing, as the world champion and a popular skater in Japan. Yuzuru tried to distance himself, without actively avoiding him. Instead he greeted Shoma, who was looking mildly terrified at the idea of having to do group choreography for the finale, or Nam who was generally thrilled to have competed, or Jason who was always a pleasure to talk to. The problem was that Javier had taken a shine to Shoma too despite a substantial language barrier, Nam was friends with both of them and _everyone_ liked Jason.

The problem was that Javier wanted to avoid Florent Amodio, despite swearing they weren't on bad terms anymore. The problem was that, with Yuzuru pretending he wasn't hurt and nothing was wrong, Javier felt no need to treat him any differently than usual. And the way Javier always treated him was exactly how Yuzuru had developed feelings for him to begin with. The problem, Yuzuru thought, was he was trying to go back to something they never had. Maybe the time where they had been together was short, but it didn’t exist in a vacuum. There had been years before that, of gradually growing closer, of a crush developing into something more solid. There were years of seeing signs of those feelings being reciprocated, of slowly moving towards that moment where they first kissed. There had never really been a point where they had simply been friends are not slowly falling for each other.

No, Yuzuru mentally corrected himself, there was never a moment in their friendship where Yuzuru hadn’t been slowly falling for Javier, hoping that Javier was falling for him too. The thought twisted inside of him painfully.

 

Javier came to him at the break, easily tossing an arm around Yuzuru’s shoulder. He put his hand on Yuzuru’s waist as they listened to the choreographer's instructions. He touched Yuzuru’s arm as they talked. He held out his hand and helped Yuzuru up after a fall and brushed the ice from his hip.

It was nothing unusual. Javier had always been like this. It meant nothing. Yuzuru looked at Javier with a wistful smile, enjoying the moment of closeness while it was there.

Kanako was, not so subtly, glaring at Javier as if willing him to burst into flames every time he so much as spoke to Yuzuru. Javier, unsurprisingly, noticed.

“Why does Kanako suddenly hate me?” He whispered into Yuzuru’s ear. “Did I do something to insult her?”

“I have no idea,” Yuzuru lied.

“Should I ask her?”

“No, no,” Yuzuru told him, burying the mild panic the idea of Javier asking Kanako what was wrong. It would be quite likely that Kanako would completely explode at him. “I’ll talk to her.”

 

Yuzuru crossed the rink during a second break and pulled Kanako to a private-ish area where, at least, no one would hear them. They still had a fair few hours of practice time to come up with a group routine and run through their exhibition pieces. They still have another practice tomorrow before the show. They still had a fair bit of time they had to spend together, not even considering they would be attending the same ice shows in a few weeks time.

“Kana, cut it out,” Yuzuru whispered harshly.

“Cut what out?”

“Looking at Javi like you want to rip his head off whenever he’s within two feet of me.”

“I’m not,” Kanako smiled with faux-sweetness, her voice light and airy.  “I’m looking at him like I want to rip his head off whenever he _touches_ you. There’s a difference.”

“Yeah, well, he’s noticed. Stop it.”

“I’m glad he’s noticed. If he doesn’t like it he can get the hell away from you,” Kanako said bluntly, eyes flicking over to where Javier was sat with his phone.

“Kana,” Yuzuru sighed. “He doesn’t know I told you, okay? I doubt he’d be happy with me if he found out.”

“I don’t give a shit if he’s happy.”

“I _do_. You are going to make me miserable too, please, stop.” Yuzuru pleaded. This usually worked on her, This time, however, it did not.

“He should feel bad for what he’s done. He obviously doesn’t because he’s still hanging all over you just like he always has.”

“That’s just how he is-”

“With you,” Kanako interrupted, annoyed.  “He’s not like that with everyone. No wonder you can’t move on when he’s still playing with you.” Kanako huffed. “It’s pissing me off. He has a girlfriend. He shouldn’t be flirting with you and still treating you like his boyfriend.”

“He’s not.”

“Please,” Kanako rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t be half as annoyed with him if it wasn’t for the fact you are still in love with him and soaking up the attention as a way to desperately cling onto him.”

Yuzuru shifts his gaze away. “That’s my problem, not his.”

“Oh no, I am willing to bet that he knows exactly what he is doing. That's why it pisses me off.” Kanako frowned, glaring in Javier’s direction again for good measure.

“He’s not doing anything. He’s just trying to act normal. Like nothing happened. The way I have been all year.”

“You can keep believing that, but that’s not what I think at all.” Kanako tossed her hair, ponytail swaying behind her. “I think he likes having you wrapped around his finger and loves having you there as his little toy he can play with whenever he’s bored.”

“He’s not like that,” Yuzuru murmured. “Anyway, I never told him how I felt. As far as he knows I was fine with us just fooling around for a few months and was fine with him seeing someone else.”

“If that’s true he’s a massive idiot,” Kanako said with a sniff. “But I suspect you are a bigger idiot for believing that.” She folded her arms in front of her. “I don’t like him.”

Yuzuru sighed. exasperated. “You liked him just fine before-”

“Yeah, _before_ he broke your heart,” Kanako’s voice grew harder. Her patience was clearly running thin. Yuzuru quickly looked around them to make sure no one was close enough to hear. She continued her voice a harsh but quiet. “I liked him before he played you. He’s _still_ playing with you.”

“He’s not doing anything,” Yuzuru hissed. “Neither am I. I know you want me to punish him somehow, but I already told you why I can’t-”

“You told me you don’t even want to.” Kanako’s frown deepened. “And you can say you’re doing nothing but every time he touches you, you fall back right into him.”

Yuzuru lowered his gaze to the floor, part of him ashamed that he was so transparent, that she had noticed, that he wasn't able to hold himself back in the first place. It was a harmless thing, he told himself. But there was that gnawing feeling that it's something he shouldn't be doing. Not that touch itself was inherently wrong, but Yuzuru knew that his intentions were not merely friendly.

“And I know you’ll be the same all summer while you’re training. You’ll have a little break, he’ll come over and put his arms around you and fix your hair, and you’ll look at him all soft.” She scowled. “He’ll always have a part of you.”

Yuzuru hated how much he knew she was right.

“It’s so obvious, Yuzu,” Kanako said, her tone soft but still irritated. “He could say the word right now, and you’d let him go back to you without hesitation, and I hate it.”

“He wouldn’t do that. _I_ wouldn’t do that to Miki either,” Yuzuru snapped. “Why are you so convinced he would mess around with me behind her back?”

“I don't trust him,” Kanako said slowly as if spelling it out for him.

“You don't know him like I know him,” Yuzuru shook his head. “He would never do that.”

He believed that wholeheartedly, without any doubt. He had seen Javier with girlfriends before. He tended to be pretty devoted. It was only Yuzuru he wasn’t devoted to.

“But they’ve been dating a least six months now, right?” Kanako tilts her head, eyes narrowed. “What if Javi decides he’s bored, or they decide they don’t see each other enough, or they break up for some other reason. He could go running to you, and you would let him do the exact same thing all over again.” Her eyes flashed, a little angry as if daring him to deny it. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Yuzuru looked down again; an uncomfortable feeling settled over him. He wanted to say she was wrong but he had a horrible feeling that she was right. Javier might not be one to cheat on a partner, but there were hundreds of reasons why he could end a relationship after just a few months. If Javier were to tell him over the summer that he and Miki were no longer together...if he were to ask Yuzuru to try being together again - he couldn't honestly say that he would say no.

Kanako snorts angrily. “Well, at least you know that.” She let out a frustrated breath. “This is why I wanted you to hook up with Han, or literally any other guy that is interested. Even if it’s just for one night. At least it’s one night you’re not hanging around waiting for Javi to change his mind and come back to you.”

“I’m not waiting around for him,” Yuzuru said flatly, not totally sure that wasn't a lie. “I’m just not ready for someone else.”

“Not ready my ass,” Kanako hissed. “You still seem to think that if you see someone else, you're unfaithful to him or something. Like he gave a shit about being faithful to you.” Her voice raises a little, not enough that anyone hear but enough that Yuzuru felt kind of nervous. “He didn’t even have the decency to end things properly with you before he started seeing someone else.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Sure it wasn’t.”

Shoma had noticed that they were arguing. Yuzuru could see him out the corner of his eye, looking at them anxiously, like he wanted to go over and stop them from fighting. Yuzuru hoped Javier wouldn’t look up from his phone. He hoped Shoma wouldn’t draw attention to them, but he took it as his cue to try to wrap this up as quickly as possible.

“Kanako. Please. Just...Be a little less obvious.” Yuzuru asked, looking up at her with pleading eyes. He saw her waver. “I know you are angry and I know you are looking out for me. I appreciate it. But please, have a little bit more faith in me.”

“It’s not too late,” she said flatly. “You could still ask Han out for dinner or something before he leaves Japan.”

Yuzuru laughs a little. Shoma seemed to relax, but still kept periodically looking over at them with a worried expression.

“He has a girlfriend. I asked.”

“Well, shit.” Kanako paused to think for a moment. “Wait, what about Liu Xinyu? You’ve been getting on pretty well with him as well. He’s not shy about touching you either. He’s happy enough to lift you over his head.”

Yuzuru made an odd strangled sound, embarrassment rushing over him.

“Oh my god, Kana stop,” Yuzuru whined “It's not just that I'm not ready. You know I can't just go around hitting on people. I can't date-”

“Other people manage just fine,” Kanako said pointedly.

Yuzuru didn't want to say that he wasn't like most people, though it was true. Even other top skaters didn't have the media attention and scrutiny that he did. Others weren't treated by fans and media and sponsors the way he was. Others weren't in his situation. Pretending he could be an average young man and go out, freely dating whenever and whoever he wanted, was a fantasy. There would be repercussions if he ever dared. It would have been the same even if he were straight, that his preference was firmly aligned with men made it all the more difficult, all the more certain that if he were ever caught dating at all his career would blow up in his face.

He wished it wouldn't matter, that he could just skate and that would be the only thing that anyone cared about - that was nothing more than a fantasy too.

“At the very least,” She leant close to whisper in Yuzuru’s ear. “Quit letting Javier touch you and go over and get Xinyu to touch you instead.”

“Only,” Yuzuru bargains. “If you quit trying to kill Javi with your mind.”

“Fine.” Kanako sighed, defeated. “But I better see some decent subtle flirting coming from you.”

  
At the banquet, Yuzuru asked Xinyu to lift him. On the way down, he pretended to lose his balance, so Xinyu would catch him and hold his waist. Acting as if he was flustered, Yuzuru looked up to Xinyu’s eyes and, with a shy smile and hands lightly holding his shoulders,  thanked him. Xinyu looked a little confused but was slow to take his hands from Yuzuru’s waist.

From behind Xinyu’s back, Kanako gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up for his effort

 

Kanako ended up pulling out of the ice shows she had scheduled for the summer. Yuzuru was partially relieved - not pleased at all that she had injured her ankle, but at least she wouldn't be butting heads with Javier for three weeks. It also meant he had no one around him that knew how he felt, no one he could talk to, just to unload how uncomfortable he felt having to actually witness how Javier and Miki were with each other; how they looked at each other, how they spoke to each other. The easiness, the naturalness of their relationship, their obvious comfort with each other, hurt him. Even if they weren't overtly acting like a couple, it hurt Yuzuru to see what he could never have - an open, public relationship with open, public affection.

Javier, at least, had the sense to at least attempt to be mindful to not rub his relationship in Yuzuru’s face, but it didn't change how deeply awkward Yuzuru felt whenever in a room with the two of them.

Yuzuru, subtly, avoided them as much as he possibly could. It was the only way to deal with spending so much time faced with the fact that Javier had moved on. He could not avoid Javier entirely, could not avoid speaking to him completely, but he could use others as a way to dodge being alone with him. He stuck to Nobu like glue - which was not unusual, and Nobu was always delighted by it. He drifted to Shoma whenever he spotted him. He dashed to Johnny Weir’s side whenever he could.

Other people served as a buffer. Yuzuru could put on a smile and laugh at Javier’s jokes, he could hold himself back from pulling away when Javier touched him and mask his pain when he saw Miki slip her fingers between Javier’s, but it was tiring. Talking to Javier, being around him, being friends with him used to be so easy, but now it felt like a performance. Yuzuru wanted to keep that friendship, and he still enjoyed Javier’s company but it was draining. It was worth it, but it was exhausting.

Quiet moments by himself, running through his exhibition program and practising on the ice seemed to recharge him. Laughing with Nobu backstage made Yuzuru feel like himself again. Sitting with Shoma in silence as they mutually played on their PSPs helped - it was nice not to be alone but not feel the need to entertain who he was with. 

Some people had always been a little more draining than others to be around. Javier used to be like Shoma; one of the people Yuzuru felt he could spend hours with without feeling worn-out afterwards. That wasn't the case anymore. It was a shift that made Yuzuru feel sad, regretful, but something he couldn't force.

 

During lunch break, after practice and before the show would begin, Miki came in front of Yuzuru, looking at him a little cautiously.

“May I sit here?”

“Sure,” Yuzuru said, forcing a smile. He wasn't eating much anyway; he hated feeling too full before skating.

It wasn't the first time in the tour she had tried to speak to him. He felt bad that he kept on dodging her, limiting their conversations to polite greeting and clipped small talk. He tried not to be rude, but he didn't want to talk to her.

“It's been a pretty good tour so far, right?” She said pleasantly. Yuzuru nodded politely.

“It’s going well. I like Kobe.”

“It's good to catch up with Nobu, right? I always forget how close you two are.”

Yuzuru tried to relax a little, but he felt oddly on edge. “It's a shame I don't see him as much in season, but he always messages me a lot.”

“That's good; I remember you were nervous about being lonely when you were moving to Canada.”

Of course, she had been at the ice shows he had done that year. He had been pretty candid with a lot of people about his nervousness.

Yuzuru smiled weakly. “Yeah, I guess I was worried over nothing.”

Miki picked at her food for a moment, before looking up at him and arriving at what she had really wanted to say.

“I know we've never really been close, you've always been closer to Mao--”

“I respect you too,” Yuzuru said quickly. It was true that they never spoke much, but he didn't want her to think he disliked her. “You were both important to me when I was developing as a skater.”

Miki smiled warmly. “That makes me so happy, Yuzu.”

Yuzuru felt an unhappy twinge at the nickname.

“I would like to be friendlier with you,” Miki said, pausing to nibble at her food. “Javi talks about you like you hung the stars. It makes me feel bad that I don’t know you all that well.”

Yuzuru smiled stiffly. “I’d like to be friends with you too,” he lied.

Miki beamed at him, and he felt awful about how much he didn’t want to be around her. She did nothing wrong. He had no reason to dislike her. He had no right to feel bitter towards her.

“How is Himawari?” Yuzuru asked, politely, in a conscious effort to actually try to be somewhat friendly. Miki looked delighted and plucked her phone from her pocket to show him the background - a cute picture of a chubby-cheeked toddler smiling up at him.

“She’s beautiful, like her mother,” Yuzuru said softly. Miki laughed.

“Oh, you are such a charmer.” She nudged him playfully. “You like kids, huh?”

“Yeah. children seem to really like me.” Yuzuru’s expression melted into a more genuine smile. No one could be mad at children. Something seemed to trickle through him - empathy. Miki had such a horrible time, people had been so cruel to her. Everything he feared, that held him back from having relationships, was what she had to go through. For a moment, he hoped Javier would be able to make her happy, complete their family, treat her right. She deserved to be treated better than she had been. He felt happy for her. That she had someone to stand by her. Even if that someone was Javier.

“Maybe I’ll bring her to visit you at the rink in the summer,” Miki said pleasantly. “She can’t go on the ice yet, but she loves watching.”

Yuzuru’s insides seemed to freeze up. “You’re coming to Canada?”

“For a little while. We’re still working things out.”

He might have been able to find it in himself to be happy for Miki, but that didn’t mean he wanted to see her and Javier together during the summer.

He kept that to himself.

“That would be nice,” Yuzuru said with a strained smile.

Miki sipped her drink and flicked her eyes just beyond Yuzuru’s shoulder.

“Seems you’re in demand,” She said, amused. “I think baby Dai wants your attention.”

“Who?” Yuzuru asked, confused.

She chuckled. “Little Shoma has been staring at you for a while now.”

Yuzuru turned back. Shoma looked down so quickly he might have given himself whiplash.

“Oh,” He turned back to Miki, looking at her apologetically but thankful for an opportunity to escape. “I’ll see what he wants. Excuse me.” He bows his head awkwardly. “Enjoy your meal.”

She nodded, waving him away with a sweet smile. He scampered away and sat next to Shoma.

 

“Did you want something?”

Shoma chewed his lip cutely. “You seemed uncomfortable.”

“Huh?”

“I mean, from behind, your shoulders were all stiff, so I thought maybe you were uncomfortable.” Shoma shrugged, tilting his head. “I figured if I stared at you enough one of you would notice and you’d come over.”

Yuzuru stared at him with a rush of gratitude. It maybe wasn’t the most efficient way to give Yuzuru an escape from an awkward conversation, but it had been effective.

“You--You are very perceptive,” Yuzuru said in mild wonderment.

Shoma grinned, “You’re pretty easy to read.”

“Dammit, I thought I was an enigma,” Yuzuru joked. “Like some cool guy that drew people in with a mysterious aura.”

Shoma lips twitched in amusement. “I mean, some people might think that,” He said charitably. “But I think you’re the total opposite.”

Yuzuru pouted. “Ouch.”

“I like it,” Shoma said in a small voice. “Cool types are usually like that because they are boring.” His smile grew, despite him looking down a little bashfully.  “You’re fun.”

That made Yuzuru happy. He had always enjoyed the summer shows - being able to perform without thinking about competing, focusing on being an entertainer instead of trying to balance the performance and the athletics of the sport. He liked being around people like Nobu and Johnny, who were always outgoing and up for a laugh. The summer shows were times he could let loose and be silly, diffuse the last of the tension that lingered from he last season. He had been having a lot of fun with Nobu, who brought out his goofy-side with an ease no one else quite managed. But it seemed all the more enjoyable to sing old pop songs and do silly dances with Nobu when he could look over and see Shoma doubled over, laughing at them. He liked breaking through that wall of shyness, seeing Shoma's whole face scrunching up from his smile. Everything seemed a little easier, more bearable, if he could turn and see Shoma laughing from partial second-hand embarrassment or a simple, pure enjoyment of the moment. Trying to coax Shoma out of his shell had been a pleasant distraction, a nice mission. It maybe wasn’t entirely successful, but he felt they had made progress.

“I’m looking forward to competing with you,” Yuzuru told Shoma on the last day of their final show together before he was due to go back to Canada and launch his training for the next season. He had displayed his new program, but it was still a draft. He was looking forward to refining it. He was interested to see how Shoma would do the same with his programs too, and how far he would go with them.

Shoma had nodded awkwardly. “I’m excited about it too.”

“Hopefully I’ll see you before nationals.”

Shoma shrugged. That would require him making it to the Grand Prix Final. It would be quite an achievement, to get there his first year competing at seniors. Yuzuru hadn’t managed it when he left Juniors behind. But he had been a little younger than Shoma, and a little less refined. Not to mention Shoma already had a stamina Yuzuru had only just started to come close to.

“I’ll try my best.”

Yuzuru knew Shoma was trying to be humble, but he also saw a flash of something in his eyes. A little bit of confidence. Perhaps a kick of motivation.

Yuzuru smiled. “Then, I’ll see you in Barcelona.”

 

Going back to Toronto, Yuzuru felt a shift in his focus, looking forward to October and the start of the new season. He leant down and touched the familiar ice, ice that truly felt like home now, and looked up to where the club proudly displayed the achievements of their skaters. World Champions: Yuzuru Hanyu, 2014. Javier Fernandez, 2015. Seeing it fanned a little flame inside of him. He was happy for Javier; he had worked hard, skated well and deserved the title. But Yuzuru wanted to title of World Champion back.

He needed to focus on his training completely. He couldn’t let himself be distracted. He wanted revenge for the previous season. The progressive run of injuries, the seemingly endless misfortune, and the media response, fan responses, the psychological impact of the accident and the emotional wound of a broken heart… It had all left him vulnerable to anxiety, his confidence knocked low, his mind unable to get into the right space to force his body to push through any weakness and perform in a way that did justice to the work Brian and Tracy had put into training him, the work Jeffrey and Shea-Lynn had put into choreographing his programs.

He would cast it all aside. Wipe the slate somewhat clean. Next season he wanted to go out and give no room or reason for anyone to doubt his physical or mental capability - to any one on the outside, or himself.

He worked out a layout for his short program that would elevate it, worked out his free program that would demonstrate the kind of difficulty he had initially wanted to challenge last season but had been unable to. But difficulty alone wasn’t enough. It would never be enough to just had big jumps and high level elements. There needed to be beauty, quality in every step between, in every landing. He had his sights set on a vision of who programs that had the technical elements weaved into the choreography as seamlessly as possible, with everything connected to the music, every step flowing to the next, every jump and spin fitting into place naturally.

Yuzuru found himself watching Nam and Junhwan. Nam was still developing, pushing himself forward to improve every aspect of his skating as much as he could to fit more comfortably in the senior field. Junhwan was a young Korean who had moved to train with Brian at the beginning of the summer. He reminded Yuzuru of himself at that age; a head that was dominated by a fluffy bowl cut, a lot of potential, and already a lot of attention from media in his home country. On the few days that the media were allowed in the club, a fair number of cameras had been from Korea, with reporters pointing their microphones at Junhwan as he politely answered their questions. That was where the similarities ended, though. Junhwan had bigger eyes and a shier smile, and overall seemed a lot more mature and grounded then Yuzuru had been at that age. Still a junior, his training had a greater focus on the foundation of good skating - steps, expression, posture, a sustained effort to improve the quality of every element he could perform through enforcing proper technique.

Watching them reminded Yuzuru that he still had things he needed to work on and refine right down to the foundations of his own skating. It was still important for him to work on his spins, improve the speed and centring of them, make sure he moved from positions as smoothly as possible. He still needed to work on his steps, get clearer, deeper edges and greater control. He would never be able to skate like Patrick Chan - the sheer amount of effort and stamina required was something he just didn’t possess, but he wanted the skating skills he could demonstrate to be the best he could achieve. He still needed to work on his landings, his arabesque, the tension of his arms and his posture in the second half. Skating was not just about jumps, though he spent a lot of time working on them too; the height, the distance, the rotations, the entry and the exit. He needed to work on the little things too.  


He wanted to avoid all distractions. But some were harder to escape than others.

Javier was still there. And Javier had not changed. In some ways, it was still something Yuzuru needed - to not become too intense, too obsessed. He still benefitted from the little ways Javier brought balance to him with the little jokes whispered in his ear to break his tension, the smiles shot across the ice between elements. He still appreciated the way they would silently watch each other; Javier subtly demonstrating a well-landed jump after spotting Yuzuru having some problems, the occasional effort to outdo each other with how many things they could cram into a combination or sequence - Yuzuru laughing a little and Javier look of utter disbelief after he landed five triple axels in straight sequence for the fun of it, just because he could.

There was still Javier’s penchant to touch. Holding his hand out to pick Yuzuru up after a fall, touching his shoulder as Brian talked to them. Yuzuru indulged himself; letting Javier touch him, leaning into each touch, resting back against Javier’s chest, the way he always had. The twinge of lingering sadness was almost worth it. At least he has Javier close to him. It was almost like, if he closed his eyes, he could pretend nothing happened. Nothing changed. He could just relish the closeness without guilt or sadness or pain. Almost.  


Yuzuru should have known better. He should've have taken a break when he noticed his breaths becoming wheezy, or when he started to feel tightness, or when he had first coughed. He shouldn't have pushed himself to finish the run through. But he did. It was a stupid mistake and it would cost him. He had been driving for slightly longer practice times just to see if he could manage just an extra half hour some days, Brian allowed it with caution and the promise that if it was too much Yuzuru would concede and slow down.

By the time he got to the edge of the ice he was starting to feel dizzy, his breathes getting shallower and it getting harder to exhale. His chest felt tight.

Brian was at his side with lightning speed, holding out his inhaler. Javier came close as Yuzuru fumbled it out of Brian’s hand. He took a dose and tried to breathe out. If his breathing didn't settle down quickly, he would take a second dose and likely have to skip the next day's practice. He didn't want that. The attack was just a small one, no where close to the worst he ever had, not even touching the worst he had since moving to Toronto - but it was the first he had in some time. It frustrated him. He was on top of his asthma. He took his medication, he had slowly built up how long he could train before his asthma was aggravated. But here he was, inhaler in hand, trying to will the air in his lungs to move the way it's supposed to.

Yuzuru sat on the bench, taking is slow, deep breaths. The wheezing still there but not as pronounced. He knew it would be the end of his training for the day, and the end of him pushing for more time on the ice.

“I can drive him home,” Javier offered, more to Brian than to Yuzuru. Yuzuru shook his head.

“No,” he wheezed. “Just...call...mum.”

“I don't mind.”

Yuzuru shook his head. “I...rest...in…” he gestured to the locker room, saying it out loud seemed like a hassle. “You...stay...here.”

Javier looked unhappy, “I'll help you to the locker room then.”

Brian nodded, leaving to call for Yuzuru’s mum to collect him. He usually just took the bus home, but he couldn't leave alone after an attack incase he had another one.

Javier helped Yuzuru get his guards on, despite his feeble protests. In the locker room, he unlaced Yuzuru’s boots for him, despite Yuzuru trying to tell him no. He might have trouble breathing, but he was capable of changing his shoes.

“Just let me look after you for a bit, okay?”

Yuzuru felt a strange twinge in the pit of his stomach, as Javier fetched his bag and slipped on his sneakers for him. It wasn't necessary, Javier knew it wasn't, but he did it anyway. That kind of gentle treatment, the light stroking down Yuzuru’s spine as his breathing continued to even out, came with a heavier feeling of sadness and regret than anything else.  


On the ice it was easier to be normal, to be friendly, to cope with the hurt that still lingered despite Yuzuru wanting to let it go. Yuzuru could deal with seeing Javier, talking to him, hearing his jokes, his laugh, seeing his smile. He could even put up with the touching, that little bit of affection that had always been there. But he couldn't deal with much beyond that.

“What to game with me and Nam?” Javier asked as he put away his boots.

“Um,” Yuzuru didn't, couldn't, look at him. There was no single place on earth Yuzuru wanted to be less than Javier’s apartment. “Can't. I have assignment.”

Javier asking if Yuzuru wanted to join some group activity was one thing. Asking if Yuzuru wanted to spend time alone with him was another.

“Hey, are you free tonight?” Javier asked casually.

“Why?” Yuzuru folded his training pants and slipped them into his bag, feeling tense.

“You’re the only person who watches Spanish dramas with me; I was going to catch up.” Javier smiled at him a little hopefully. “I'll make us dinner.”

“Uh-” Yuzuru looked up at him, horror apparent on his face.

Javier laughed. “I'll _order_ us dinner.”

Yuzuru felt like his insides were being crushed with a vice. The memory of laying down on Javier’s sofa, using his thighs or chest as a pillow, watching bad TV and eating some of Javier’s cooking attempts flooded at him. He remembered how he would barely need to tip his head up in the ad breaks and Javier would lean down to kiss him. Now Javier wanted him to watch TV as friends, sat at opposite ends of the sofa with awkward distance between them. 

“I can't. I have to-” Yuzuru scrambled for an excuse. He would sooner set himself on fire than do anything with Javier that reminded him that he was in love with him - and had once thought that love was returned. “-I have to check new edit of free program music.”

Javier pouted at him but accepted it.

Almost every time they were leaving practice around the same time, Javier asked Yuzuru something; hang out as a group, go out for coffee, go get waffles together, go out for ice cream. Every time Yuzuru made his excuses and said no.

He was sure that Javier’s intentions were nothing but friendly, an attempt to hold onto some of the closeness they once had, but every offer came with a stab of pain and an odd sense of doubt. Kanako’s words rang in Yuzuru’s mind, he started to wonder if she was right. Did Javier know how he felt and just not care? Was Javier purposely making it hard for Yuzuru to forget and move on because he liked the idea of having Yuzuru there?

  
It didn't take long for his patience to wear thin. Yuzuru sat in Brian’s office, looking glum.

“I change my mind.”

“Hm?” Brian looked at him partially confused and expectant, waiting for Yuzuru to finish.

“I want to change training time.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t need to never see him.” Yuzuru explained in a quiet voice. “Just… see less. Don’t want to leave at same time. Maybe I come earlier or later.”

Yuzuru looked up at Brian, assessing his expression, hoping he understood who he was talking about without having to directly address the problem.

“Can I ask why?” Brian asked. Yuzuru lowered his gaze, staring at the desk instead.

“I think you know why," Yuzuru whispered, feeling a degree of shame. Not ashamed of his feelings, but that he couldn't cope with them like he had wanted to.

Brian cleared his throat. “I have an idea.”

“We are okay. I can be friend but…”Yuzuru struggled for the right words. “Is a little tiring.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Yuzuru said flatly.

“Did something happen?” Brian asked cautiously. Yuzuru understood. From an outside perspective Yuzuru had been absolutely fine with Javier except for a period of snappiness before Worlds - which could be excused away with nerves and Yuzuru’s entire year being a mess. Brian had offered twice, out of compassion, to change Yuzuru’s training schedule so he could easily avoid Javier and both times he had refused. It could seem a bit out of the left field for Yuzuru to suddenly declare he does want to avoid Javier after all.

“No.” Yuzuru shifts uncomfortably. “Just...he asks to hang out, but I can’t hang out with him.”

“Hang out,” Brian repeats slowly, voice flat.

“As friend,” Yuzuru adds hastily. “Not to do--not to be like before. But. Is hard for me.”

“Would you like me to talk to him?”

“No.” Yuzuru shook his head. It's better that Javier didn't know he was getting to Yuzuru, especially if he was just trying to be friendly.

“Okay. We can push your times back on days you guys are sharing, maybe rearrange some of your one-on-one time. You might have to do an earlier start for a few days--”

“Okay.” Yuzuru nodded sharply. “Training together is okay but off ice time together... “

“I understand.” Brian sighed, shuffling through papers on his desk awkwardly. “I had really hoped you were able to stay friends.”

Yuzuru smiles weakly. “That’s why I do this.” He bit his lip, feeling awkward. “I’m sorry. For making problem.”

“It’s okay. I’m not upset with you-”

“Please don’t be upset with Javi,” Yuzuru said quickly, tone pleading. “He doesn’t know...my feeling.”

Brian smiles, though his eyes look a little sad. “Don’t worry, Javi won’t be having any issues with me.”

Yuzuru nodded again, feeling uncomfortable. He felt like he had done something bad, wrong, in getting involved with Javier under Brian’s nose to begin with. He wasn't sure how Brian knew, but it was obvious that he did.

“I’ll look over your schedules; I should have a new one for you tomorrow. You'll probably still have some overlap but I'll make sure he can't catch you off the ice anymore.”

“Thank you.” Yuzuru started to rise from his seat, but Brian spoke again before he could.

“I hope you know you are safe here,” Brian said gently. “Me and David and Jeff we all know...how difficult it can be.”

Yuzuru looked up at him with wide eyes, completely horrified. “D-do they know? About me?”

Brian shook his head. “No. I haven’t told anyone.”

Yuzuru felt his face turning red. “How...how did you know?”

“You and Javi weren’t entirely discreet.” Brian grimaces a little, before looking at Yuzuru a little apologetically. “Your mother mentioned to me that you were spending a lot of time together outside of training, asked me to make sure you were being careful. You have a way of looking at each other. It wasn’t hard to figure out.”

Yuzuru closed his eyes. His mother talked about it - noticed something was going on and got worried. Yuzuru felt humiliated, that Brian had to be told to look out for him. That his mother had been forced to actually acknowlege the one thing they never discuss. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Like I said, you are safe here.” Brian reached over the desk to pat Yuzuru’s hand. “It’s better that I know. So I can protect you. But no one but me needs to know if you prefer it that way.”

Yuzuru would have preferred Brian never know, though knowing he wouldn't exactly have a problem with his orientation was one of the reasons he thought moving to Canada could be the right choice. “Thank you.” Yuzuru let out a slow breath. “How did you know...my feeling?”

There was only reason why Brian would repeatedly offer to desperate their training that was apparent to Yuzuru - he somehow knew that Yuzuru had feelings for Javier, and had been hurt by their relationship dissolving.

“Neither of you are particularly good at hiding that either.” Brian shrugged. “Like I said, you have a way of looking at each other.”     

 

It didn’t take long for Javier to notice that Yuzuru had shifted his training times. Yuzuru expected him to notice, and expected him to maybe question it, but had not expected Javier to be waiting for him in the locker room.

Javier finished his session an hour before. Yet there he was, sat on the benches beside Yuzuru’s locker, waiting for him.

Yuzuru pretended he wasn’t bothered by this.

“Why you still here?” He asked, placing his boots down beside Javier’s bag, opening his locker.

“I wanted to talk to you.” Javier paused for a beat, perhaps trying to seem casual. He failed, Yuzuru could hear an odd edge to his voice between irritation and concern. “Are you avoiding me?”

“No,” Yuzuru lied. He pulled his change of clothes out of his locker. The track pants could go over his tight training gear, but he wanted to at least have a t-shirt that wasn’t sticking to his skin from sweat. He didn’t look at Javier.

“It's just...you changed your training times?” Javier looked up at Yuzuru, not averting his eyes at all as Yuzuru stripped off the clingy fabric of his training gear. “I barely see you now.”

Yuzuru slipped the fresh t-shirt over his head and shrugged. “Changing off-ice training, need different schedule.”

“Why?”

“Body is weak. Want to be stronger.” He gestured vaguely at his chest. “Need to work on breathing and skate longer.”

Javier’s expression changed, seemingly accepting the excuse. Yuzuru’s most recent asthma attack fresh in his mind.

“Is that really it?” He asked, a little disbelieving but far more at ease.

“Yeah,” Yuzuru lied. “That’s all.”

“You never want to hang out either, though,” Javier said a little sulkily.

“I need to study. And still working on free program music” Yuzuru smiled tightly. “Not avoiding you. Just training, just busy.”

“Remember what I said last year, you need to relax sometime too.”

Yuzuru remembers. He remembers Javier teasing him, looking at Yuzuru with heavy lidded eyes. Yuzuru remembers wanting to kiss him in the public park. He remembers _how_ they relaxed together, stretched out on Javier’s bed, clothes elsewhere.

“Last year I relax too much with Javi,” Yuzuru said, his tone a little sharp. He felt irrationally angry. “This year Javi has other _friend_ to _relax_ with-”

Javier stiffened, taken aback by the sudden change in Yuzuru’s tone from mild to snappy.

“I just meant you can't be working all the time, it's okay to rest and play--”

“I _know._ But I don't need to play with _you,_ ” Yuzuru said, lifting his chin, trying to keep his voice level and face calm, but his eyes belied his efforts to seem calm, turning hard. He continued to change, slipping on his shoes, putting away his boots and dirty training clothes with a slight aggressiveness. “I play too much last summer, this summer need to work harder. So I work harder. I don't need you to tell me to take breaks.”

Javier looked up at him, wounded. “I thought we were okay-”

“We fine,” Yuzuru said shortly, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Stop asking if you don't feel bad about something.”

Yuzuru slammed the door to his locker and left without looking back. Javier watched him silently before his eyes dropped to the floor.

 

Javier withdrew. For a while.

It was actually somewhat of a relief to begin with. The change in schedule meant their overlap was purely on the ice and typically not for very long. Sometimes, Yuzuru was an hour into his session before Javier showed up. Sometimes Yuzuru arrived as Javier was part way through his training. It limited how much they could interact. Yuzuru only noticed that Javier was being cautious around him after a few days, when he slowly realised that Javier was stood at arms length from him during a break instead of draping an arms round his shoulder like he usually would. Remembering that the last time they spoke had been an argument, Yuzuru broke the coldness between them with a little smile as he put down his water and headed back out to resume his training.

It took a few more weeks for them to fall back into a comfortable rhythm. Nam, unwittingly helping them along by yelling across the rink.

“Hey, Javi! Tell Yuzu that joke you told me!”

“I don’t think he’ll get it,” Javi mumbled before telling it anyway. Yuzuru didn’t get it, Javier had to explain. Yuzuru tilted his head. The punchline had hinged on a double entendre, which only worked when the lister was aware there was more than one way of interpretating something. Yuzuru had not been aware of the second meaning.

“Oh. I guess that is funny.”

“Well, it was,” Javier sulked.

Yuzuru flicked his pouty bottom lip and laughed, starting to skate backwards away from Javier before he could retaliate. Javier chased him.

It was so familiar, so normal, for Yuzuru to deliberately slow down for Javier to catch him. To laugh as Javier caught his waist and tickled beneath his ribs. To hear Brian call out for them to break it up, and Javier to ruffle his hair before he resumed a lap around the rink. It felt right.

They were back to where they needed to be.

 

Yuzuru closed his eyes, breathing in with the sound of a sharp inhale that rang through the club speakers. He threw his arm up above his head and took off. The music was a little bit of a risk, Brian had told him, since judges tended to favour European styles. He thought now was the perfect time for risks; coming off the back of a terrible season, the next Olympics two years away. Now was the time to push his stamina with a challenging layout, now was the time to try to develop his sense of artistry and movement, now was the time to try music that might not be favoured but was something he could connect with. The program was a study in how to draw out the best of his skating - how to draw himself completely into the music, match the steps to the beats, surround each element with a program so rich in transitions every jump and spin was enveloped, becoming part of the choreography itself. He had watched the movie the music came from over and over, listened and analysed the music endlessly, sending it back to be tweaked by the JSF editor over thirty times until it met the vision he had perfectly. A balance of delicacy, beauty and strength. Representative of his home country, representative of himself, of what his ideal skating was.

It was not a perfect run through, but it was enough. He ended gasping for air. At the side of the rink Javier clapped.

Yuzuru had done the same for him, watched a run through of Javier’s programs and given him some feedback. They had different styles, different ways of skating. Javier was a little slower, but more overtly powerful, a little more character-driven with his strengths being his jumps and his expression. He had a way of making a competitive program so entertaining it almost felt like an exhibition piece. Yuzuru was light and fast with a delicate touch to the ice, not quite as good at connecting with the audience but often able to draw them in. They had different approaches to training, responded to different styles of coaching  Yuzuru prefered directness and honesty, a firm hand while Javier tended to respond badly to harsh critique and prefered a softer touch. Javier benefitted from distractions away from the ice, while Yuzuru got more overwhelmed and needed quiet spaces. Despite their differences, they still saw how hard the other worked and respected what the other did on the ice.

They joked about the coincidence of them both choosing a program each that was reflective of their home countries, and how different they were. Javier, the powerful dancer, all sharp movement and fire. Yuzuru, flowing movements and shifting tones between soft and strong, playing a fighter and an artist at once.

“The sharper arm movements really work for you,” Javier smiled. “Even at the end, you were tired but you weren’t completely floppy.”

“A little floppy.” Yuzuru laughed breathlessly.

“A little but it suits the choreography. Shea did a good job.” Javier looks up at the plaques on the wall. “I think I have my work cut out for me.”

Yuzuru smiled. “I’m coming for you.”

“I won’t make it easy for you.”

“Good.”

 

This was what they needed to be, Yuzuru thought. This was what made their friendship possible in the first place; not attraction or funny jokes, but respect. Yuzuru listened as Javier pointed out little details he noticed in Yuzuru’s run through that could be polished, and took it in. They had done this before; showed their programs to each other, talked about them. Yuzuru knew he could never skate a program of Javier’s and make it look right, and knew the reverse was true too, so never gave advice to bend Javier’s skating more to his own style. They listened to each other, considered each other’s opinions. They could, because they respected each other as athletes, as skaters, as competitors. That was the foundation of their relationship, and that’s what Yuzuru needed to focus on. They had a genuine desire to see the other do well, perform well, but also wanted to do better than each other. They pushed each other forwards that way. They motivated each other. They grew together. They flourished. Together.

Nothing else mattered. Not heartbreak. Not tears that had been cried in the night. Not kisses that were shared a year ago or the twist of longing Yuzuru still felt from time to time. Yuzuru let go of the urge to avoid Javier. Over time had had lost the feeling that he wanted to either run away and cry, or run into Javier’s arms at any given moment. His feelings simmered beneath the surface, but they didn’t matter.

All that mattered was that respect.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably stop posting immediately after I've decided I've finished a chapter and actually proofread properly. Oh well.  
> The next chapter to be posted should have been part of this one but this first half of what I had planned ended up being too long - so I should be able to update fairly quickly since I already have a fair bit of it drafted.  
> I hope this chapter isn't boring.
> 
> As always, comments make me happy! I love seeing what you guys think and really appreciate any feedback.


	9. Ambition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whenever Yuzuru achieves something, his ambition for more seems to grow. He is not the only one who constantly seems to want more.

**Ambition  
**   


The season began with something small, something close and comfortable. It was an event Yuzuru hadn't done before, but only having to drive rather than taking a plane felt good. It was a good way to ease into the season - not having to leave Toronto way ahead of the competition, no jet lag, no muscle stiffness from cramped flights, the nice familiar feeling of having Nam and Junhwan attend the same event.

There was always nervousness with the first competition of the season, even if it was an event that didn't have particularly high stakes. The small events were still important to Yuzuru; he still wanted the pride of a gold medal, he still wanted to show his programs as well as he possibly could.

He couldn’t quite shake his nerves for the short program, but it didn’t go terribly. He under-rotated his quad, stumbled on the landing, but his axel had been perfect and he got the triple combination. The errors bugged him, but no one expected perfection on the first outing. No one delivered their best in the first event of the season.The free also was not a complete disaster, a good first display in competition. There were still some alterations to be made, some areas to be polished, but it was not a complete disaster.

Getting gold at the first event always gave Yuzuru a little boost of confidence. He patted Nam’s waist as the posed for pictures, feeling a little short between Nam and Sean, who had taken silver and bronze. He lifted himself on his toes, trying to match the results of Nam’s latest growth spurt, and smiled brightly for a cameras.

 

The first GP assignment was also in Canada, keeping that little edge of comfort and convenience of being relatively close. But this was no low-pressure competition.

There were also the events of last year buzzing low at the back of his mind. An extra edge to the regular nerves. Not as bad as the bouts of anxiety he had following the accident, but a constant reminder that it happened. He felt somewhat assured, to be in Canada rather than China, and by the medical staff he saw dotted around the venue at practice sessions.

He would always be like this - a little sensitive to people getting too close to him on the ice, a little hyper-aware of where people were, a little more shaken than usual whenever he had to dodge someone. It was inevitable that during practices and warm-ups someone would get a little close. He knew that. He was prepared for it. But he couldn't help the sharp kick to his gut it brought him every time.

It was nice to have Tracy there, even if she was just commentating, to offer a little hug and a pat on the back before the short program as Brian talked to Nam.

Yuzuru took slow deep breaths as he went through his rituals, winding his mind down, sorting through his nerves.

The short was abysmal. He popped the quad to a double, then doubled the toe loop in the combination invalidating the whole element. 73.25. His lowest score in quite some time. The last time he got less than 75 was 2011. That little fact stung him. 6th place. He almost laughed in the kiss and cry. It wasn’t funny. He was frustrated and angry with himself for making such costly mistakes.

“You're going to have to do some chasing in the free,” Brian said, patting Yuzuru on the back. “But you're not out of the fight yet.”

The free was the perfect place to fight. It wasn’t without errors; hand down on the quad toe loop, fall on the lutz, but he got the combination despite the hand down, and he got the rotations despite the fall. 186.29. Enough for second place. Yuzuru griped internally, even after a year out Patrick was a serious competitor; someone Yuzuru was yet to fully overcome.

 

He sat with Kanako after the banquet in the hotel. His bags already packed, ready to go in the morning. She humoured him as he watched videos of his free skate performance one more time, sat beside him on the bed, reclining with the pillows propped up against the wall.

“It wasn’t that bad,” She said for maybe the third time. His fury with his short couldn’t be abated, but she found his disappointment with the free a little silly.

“Second,” Yuzuru grumbled.

“Fourth.” Kanako nudged him in the ribs. “At least you recovered from your short.”

“Ugh. My short. I’m going to switch to my other layout.”

“Isn’t your other layout two quads.”

“Yeah. We thought this layout would be less hassle for the early comps.”

“Whatever works for you I guess.” Kanako shrugged. “Nervous for NHK?”

“Always nervous,” Yuzuru said with a tight smile.

Nerves before a competition were simply a universal truth for any skater. They could even be enjoyable - the stomach flip before heading out on the ice, the tension carried through warm-up, but if left to build up they could be catastrophic. Having no nerves at all would probably be just as much of a hindrance as being too nervous. Yuzuru needed a little bit to act as motivation, but it was a precarious balance between manageable amounts of nerves and some confidence. Yuzuru thought back to the previous year; his anxiety had not been manageable at all.  

“Last year I was a mess, this year I just have to do better.”

“You’ll do great,” Kanako said, raising her fist in a cheer. “Say hello to Mao for me.”

Yuzuru nodded. “Tell Shoma congratulations, for Skate America.”

Kanako laughed. “How red will he go, if I tell him you watched?”

“I did watch.” Shoma had done pretty much the same thing Yuzuru did - bombed in the short, pulled it together in the free. He wondered how Shoma would feel about that.

“He’d die.” Kanako laughed again. “Wait, why don’t you just message him?”

“Oh, he hasn’t given me his Line yet.”

“Little shit,” Kanako muttered, holding out her hand.  “Give me your phone I’ll add him for you now.”

“It’s okay.”

“Nah, I’ll bully him to add you.” Kanako reached over him, snatching his phone, guessing his password - Yuzuru was somewhat predictable, anyone who knew him could probably break into his phone if they wanted to. She looked up at Yuzuru with a little smile as she navigated the phone. “He likes you; he’s just shy.”

“I know,” Yuzuru said. He maybe wouldn’t quite say he achieved friendship with Shoma yet, but it was clear Shoma enjoyed being around him. To a degree. Yuzuru pouted a little as he watched her open the application. “I don’t want to make him feel uncomfortable.”

“You don’t push him too much,” Kanako shook her head. “Anyway, I think he secretly loves the attention. From you, at least.” She tapped away, and with her task completed, wiggled the phone for Yuzuru to see.  “There, let me know if he doesn’t accept in a week, and I’ll put him in a headlock until he does.”

“You’re mean.” Yuzuru wrinkled his nose at her, watching as she rapidly tapped at his phone screen. “What are you doing?”

“Looking at your photos.”

Yuzuru felt a small jolt of panic. He had photos he didn’t want her to see. “Why?”

“To see if you have any nice ones with me,” she said, scrolling through, subtly moving away as she noticed Yuzuru trying to reach for the phone. He didn’t have a lot of photographs, mostly snaps of crowds of fans, a few of his family, some shots of rinks, of his newest sets of boots, costume options. She scrolled through them, scanning for her face.  “You should update your profile picture.”

“We can just take one now-”

Kanako scrolls right into photos from last summer and stops. There wasn’t many, Yuzuru had never been one to take many pictures. But there was a sizable collection. The photos he didn’t want her to know he had.

Some of the photos Yuzuru had taken, some Javier had taken. Photographs of them together, in the privacy of Javier’s apartment, at cafes, at parks, the photographs they had taken in Barcelona stored closeby. Some were innocent and sweet; sticking their tongues out to show them dyed blue and red from popsicles, smiling up at the camera on a sunny day. Others were more intimate; lay shirtless on Javier’s bed, cuddled together on the sofa. Kanako’s eyes swept through them. The ones from Barcelona Yuzuru had considered deleting, but decided to keep for the exquisite pain he felt when he looked at them. The ones of Javier’s arm around his waist, his shoulders, both of them smiling with some tourist attraction in the background; Yuzuru beaming, there as a lover, Javier pulling faces, there as a friend.

Kanako’s thumb hovered over them awkwardly, knowing she had stumbled upon something very personal, very private. She stared down at what remained for the few months Yuzuru and Javier had been together.

“You should delete these,” she said flatly.

“I don’t want to.” Yuzuru tried to snatch the phone from her hands, but she moved it out of his grasp. “Give it back.” She started to tap through them, taking a closer look, mouth downturned in a little frown. Yuzuru protested weakly. “Don’t; they are private-”

“Do you still look at them?”

“Sometimes,” he admitted sulkily.

“You should delete them,” Kanako repeated gently.  “This is how break-ups work, Yuzu, destroy all evidence. Delete all the pictures.” She opened one of Yuzuru, head cushioned on Javier’s chest, bare shoulders just in frame, head turned up to look at him, smiling. Javier also not looking at the camera, instead looking down with equally adoring eyes, finger’s toying with the hair on Yuzuru’s neck, arm extended to hold the phone. “Especially ones like this.”

“We look happy.”

“Exactly.”

“I’m getting over him.” Yuzuru hastily took the phone from her, looking down at the screen. If he had said it any other time, he could believe himself, but right then it felt like he was lying. “I am. Honestly. I just...I want to keep the happy memories, okay?”

“Delete them from your phone.” Kanako sighed, watching him as he stared down at the screen. “Move them onto your laptop or something, bury them in a folder somewhere, but don’t carry them in your pocket.”

“It won’t make a difference.”

“It will.” Kanako touched just above his knee lightly, a comforting, urging kind of touch. “You might be getting better, Yuzu, but you’re still holding on way too much. You need to let go.”

Yuzuru found himself ignoring her, taking a moment to indulge himself.

“He looked like he loved me, right?” Yuzuru stared down at one that particularly hurt him; one Javier had taken while Yuzuru dozed beside him, facing each other, Javier’s smile gentle. He remembered he had woken up seconds after the photo was taken. Javier had kissed him softly. “In this picture.”

“He looks like that in a lot of them,” Kanako said, uncomfortable. “Maybe he did love you too. I don’t know. It doesn’t matter now either way.”

“It matters to me.” Yuzuru locked the phone and put it screen-down on the bed, as if not to be tempted to look again. “It’s things like that--they still bother me.” Kanako looked at him curiously. Yuzuru’s voice grew smaller. “Did he ever love me or was I completely deluding myself the whole time? Was he ever seeing Miki and me at the same time?”

“Stop torturing yourself.” Kanako’s face seemed to grow sadder by the second. “The only way you are going to know how he felt and why he dropped you is if you ask him.”

“It’s too late for that,” Yuzuru muttered, a little sour.

“Then let it go.” Kanako straightened herself, shaking her hair back over her shoulders. “Anyway, as for him dating you and Miki at the same time, the story I heard was they started talking a lot around September and went on a date around Japan Open.”

“Literally as soon as he was finished with me.” Yuzuru felt bitter.

Kanako grimaced. “At least now you know.” She let out a heavy breath. “You deserve better than him. Move on.”

“I’m trying.” Yuzuru glanced back at the phone, knowing Kanako was right. “I’ll--I’ll delete the photos. Later.”

“Good,” Kanako smiled. “Or I’ll ask Maia if Alex is into guys--”

Yuzuru rolled his eyes. “Are you going to just go through every straight friend I have?”

“Only the cute ones.” Kanako grinned at him, unashamed. “If that’s what it takes.”

 

Yuzuru rolled his shoulders back and took the guards off his skates. He bent down to touch the ice, and slipped onto it, as easy as breathing.

He had a few weeks to train before NHK. He would use that time to get familiar with his new layout for his short program, tidy up his jumps a little more, strengthen his toe-loop a bit more. He could feel the changes to his off-ice routine helping him, building that extra bit of stamina, but he had still been lacking at Skate Canada. He would step it up, just a little, to get himself ready for the next event. Not too much, not so much it would risk another asthma attack, just enough to condition his body that little bit more so he could push through his free program and have the energy he needed to complete it with anything close to the same strength he had at the beginning of the program.

He felt focused. Calm was never going to be the right word for him, but he was about as close to calm as he could be. The determination to not make the same mistakes again was a good enough anchor to negate any anxiousness he had.

His quad toe had become relatively stable, almost as reliable as his triple axel, his salchow still needed work but had improved.

 

Javier stopped next to Yuzuru as he took a short break, grabbing his water, drinking in sync with him. Yuzuru blew out a steady breath, flexing his toes in his boots to shake off a dull throb in his left foot.

“You go Russia tomorrow?” Yuzuru asked Javier as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. He knew Javier was done for the day. He'd been watching Javier’s cool down, absently enjoying his lines as he made his stroked around the rink. He couldn't help it. He couldn't suddenly pretend Javier wasn't handsome, that he wasn't attracted to him. There was no point in trying to stop himself; after all, looking was harmless.

Javier nodded. “Tomorrow morning. You'll be going Japan in a few days, right?”

Yuzuru nodded. “Do good at Rostelecom.”

“I'll show you my gold when I come back,” Javier joked with a cheeky smile. “Bring me the NHK gold so we can compare them.”

Yuzuru laughed. “I will.”

Javier put an arm around him, pulling him close.

“I'm sweaty,” Yuzuru protested weakly, Javier pulling him into a loose hug.

“You don't smell; it's fine,” Javier murmured.

“You do,” Yuzuru joked, grinning at him.

Javier ignored him and hugged a little tighter. “If you have any problems like last time,” he said softly against Yuzuru’s ear. “Message me. Call me. Whatever helps.”

Yuzuru closed his eyes, nodding as his arms came around Javier’s body. “I think I’ll be okay.”

“I think so too.” Javier pulled back. Yuzuru opened his eyes, taking his arms back, almost feeling guilty - as if he shouldn't let Javier hold him anymore, now he belongs to someone else. He always feels like that, so he never seeks out that affection, that comfort, from Javier anymore. But he can't resist, whenever Javier comes to him and gives it so freely.

Javier noticed the odd look on Yuzuru’s face, the way Yuzuru had momentarily been staring at him. He cocked his head curiously. “What?”

Yuzuru put on a mischievous little smile. “Beard looks funny.”

Javier pouts a little, fingers rubbing through the little goatee he was sporting, practically part of his short program costume. “I thought you liked it?”

Before he could stop himself, Yuzuru was reaching out to touch Javier’s face, running a thumb against the grain of hair. Realising what he was doing, he sharply snatched his hand back. Javier just looked amused. Yuzuru felt his heart speeding up despite himself.

“Feels nice,” Yuzuru said, pretending he didn't feel uncomfortable. “But looks like old man.”

Javier laughed and pushed him in retaliation.  

“I go back to practice now,” Yuzuru said, sticking out his tongue cheekily, shaking off the heavy feeling he got whenever he let himself enjoy any physical closeness with Javier. Longing. Regret.

“I’ll leave you to it.” Javier habitually ruffled Yuzuru’s hair. He liked the way it tended to stick up all over the place when allowed to. “Good luck at NHK.”

“Good luck at Rostelecom.”

 

After some hesitation, Yuzuru had taken Kanako’s advice. He moved all the photographs of him and Javier together onto his laptop and deleted them from his phone. If anything, having them on his laptop was worse. Now he could look at them on the larger screen; look at the moment frozen in time and temporarily go back. He tried to recall how he had felt at the time, what he had done or said in the space before and after the photograph’s existence. He considered what he would do differently if he had the chance. He couldn’t erase them completely. Not now, not yet. It felt too much like killing the final remnants of what they had been, what it had meant to him, the feelings he had.

Even if there was still some pain, even if it could still be difficult, Yuzuru valued those feelings. Just like the previous season, the struggle with injury and anxiety he had battled with, it taught him a lesson and helped him move forward. It was something he could use to make himself stronger.

Now he had the knowledge of what it felt like to fall in love too quickly, to give into something without thinking it through, to give himself to someone without knowing what they wanted. He knew what it was to be free for a moment, to have a place he wasn't hiding how he felt or what he wanted. He learnt that sometimes it might be best to hold back, to wait, to be a little more patient, to have the awkward conversations that might not be pleasant but were necessary. Now he knew what it felt like to lose on a personal level, to have his heart broken. And he knew he could withstand it.

Like the earthquake had taught him to value his life and how privileged he was to be able to skate, like the accident had taught him caution and to value his time on the ice, being with Javier had taught him the joys and pains of being in love. The lesson wasn’t over. Yuzuru still had more to learn about his heart, the spectrum of what he could feel, and how he could wield those feelings, express them, control them.

 

Yuzuru looked in the mirror. He could see changes in his face from last year; the obvious things like the scar on his chin, but also subtle signs that he was a year older. The hair that was longer and in need of a trim, his cheekbones a little more defined than before, eyes a little sharper, maturity settling in his features. Less of a boy, becoming a man - though his ‘prettiness’ still clung to him. Now his lanky figure, while still lean, had become a little more solid, losing the deceptive appearance of fragility he once had, though still held onto a delicate quality. But that was okay, because he knew how to use it to his advantage.

He relaxed his muscles, rolling his head and lifting his arms, watching as he went through the motions of his short program. He wanted to carry that maturity into his skating, transfer a growing knowledge of his emotions to an understanding of his body, of his expressions. Show two sides of himself in his skating - turning ‘pretty’ into beauty. He aimed to throw away awkward looseness of limbs and instead show grace, cast away cuteness and instead seem fierce. Last season, he had come close, but everything had been touched by a sense of tragedy and struggle. Now he would show the results of that fight.

So much had changed in a year. He had changed so much.

The buzz of his phone interrupted him, breaking his focus and sending him stumbling into the wall. He heard his mother yell out at the resulting crash.  
Some things, he thought with humour, had not changed at all.  


 

> > Hi. This is Shoma.
> 
> > Kanako told me that if I didn’t add you, she’d hide broccoli in all my food for a month.  
> 

Yuzuru chuckled at the message, imagining the surely pout that was likely on Shoma’s face.  


 

> > Kana is so mean (¬_¬)
> 
> > But I'm happy you messaged me~  
> 

Yuzuru’s door swung open, his mother sticking her head around the door.

“Did you knock anything over?”

“No,” Yuzuru grinned at her.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Keep it down, don't stay up too late.”

Yuzuru sulked a little at being spoken to like a child but accepted that he should probably quit for the night.

He waved his phone at her. “I'll finish talking to Shoma and go to sleep, okay?”

“Okay,” She called back to him as she slipped away and closed the door.

He returned his attention to his phone.  


 

> > She is.
> 
> > Well. She's not. Don't tell her I said she was mean!
> 
> > Thank you for adding me.  
> 

Yuzuru smiled, amused at how, if anything, Shoma was more awkward through messages than he was in person.  


 

> > Congratulations for winning TEB! (⌒▽⌒)
> 
> > I hope I will be joining you in Barcelona~  
> 

That Shoma had won gold at a GP event was a great achievement for him. Not too long ago he was held back by his struggle to get bigger jumps. Now he had the jumps; there was little else to hold him back. All he needed was experience and the refinement that came naturally with time. Yuzuru was interested to see how Shoma would grow, how far he would go.  
Shoma’s response came swiftly.  


 

> > I hope so too.
> 
> > I mean, of course you will.
> 
> > Good luck at NHK.  
> 

Yuzuru sent back an emoticon and called it a night. He didn't have much time left until it was time to fly out to Japan. He wanted to get a good practice in, before the time for training ended and the time to fight came.

 

It was nice to see familiar faces as Yuzuru signed in for the competition. Takahito gave him a friendly wave, others greeting him in passing. A few less familiar faces too. Yuzuru spotted a fresh young face, someone who had come up from Juniors with Shoma. Their eyes met for a moment, Yuzuru offered a friendly smile. The younger skater grinned back, an endearing snaggle-toothed smile.

“Yuzu!” Mao bounded at him, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “It’s been forever!”

“It has,” Yuzuru grinned at her. “How are you?”

“Okay,” she shrugged. “How about you?”

“I’m good.” Yuzuru nodded to himself. He did feel good; he felt confident. Changing his layout for his short program was a little bit of a risk, but he had been training hard. He also had the lingering thought in his mind that he only had to aim for the podium, just to do better than last year. That would probably be enough to get to the final, too. It would be hard, he would have to skate well, but he could do it. His nerves felt under control, the slight stomach flip and tingle in his fingers almost pleasant.

“I look forward to seeing you skate,” Mao said with an honest smile. They always cheered for each other when they shared competitions. Mao was practically a hero to most skaters in Japan, but also like a sister. That was one of the things so special about her - she always had time for others. Yuzuru held her as an ideal, how a top skater should be; friendly, approachable, ready to help others, inspiring others. He strived to be like that.

“Here's to both of us getting to the final,” Yuzuru said with a smile, going for a high five.

“I like the sound of that.” Mao grinned. “I'll catch up with you later, okay?”

Yuzuru watched her go. This was why Yuzuru liked doing NHK so much - the feeling of support he got. Sure, there was usually more media than at other competitions, it could be a little more demanding. But the other skaters around him, the crowd, they supported him. They gave him strength.  
He spotted Keiji and bounded over to him.

 

Yuzuru fumbled with the zip at the back of his costume and smoothed his hands over the front, adjusting the belted area around his waist. He folded his t-shirt, tucking it away into the locker. He let out a small nervous breath, getting himself ready for the short program. His costume was similar to the previous year, but with alterations - slits of gold cutting through the blue. Kintsugi: the art of fixing broken pottery with gold, making the broken parts stronger, adding to the beauty of the piece. Last year he had been battered, mentally shattered, physically weakened and later broken, shattered into fragments.

Yuzuru knew he couldn't pretend it never happened - anytime, anyway he had been broken he couldn't erase the traces of it. He had to embrace it, recognise the past and move forward with it, becoming stronger, more beautiful, from it. As a skater, as a performer, as a person.

Yuzuru smiled to himself as he put the last of his stuff into the locker, remembering what Shoma had said to him. He closed the locker and turned away, grabbing his phone and slipping his earphones into his ears.

He worked out some of the nervous energy as he warmed up off the ice, music turned up loud, mouthing to the lyrics unconsciously. He watched Keiji, willing his friend into the air with each jump and clapping at his landings, wincing a little at the messy flip combination. He watched the boy he spotted earlier, Boyang Jin and pulled a face at Brian. The boy had areas where he had room for development: his skating skills, transitions, presentation. But his jumps marked him as competition; the height he achieved in his jumps, the opening quad lutz in combination, completing a second quad at the end of the program. Yuzuru wasn't shaken, but felt a little buzz of excitement, to have someone unexpected to beat, feeling a rush of motivation to show how good his own jumps could be.

He took deep breaths as he laced up his boots, pulling them tight. He cleared his mind as he stepped onto the ice. Cautious through the warm up, running through the setup for the quad sal, running through his toe loop, shaking off a little ache in his left foot.

“Ready?” Brian asked.

Yuzuru let out a breath and nodded. “Ready.”

Brian shook his hand. Yuzuru knelt, tapped the boards and headed out.

Yuzuru closed his eyes, waiting for his music to start, taking deep breaths as he listened to the opening notes, synchronising his breathing to the music. He rolled his head, exhaled, and moved.

Light, airy. He floated over the ice, focusing on his steps, the depth of his edges, the smoothness of his glide. His quad salchow was a little off axis, landed practically on the toe-pick, but he'd been able to land it, albeit with a lean forwards. Satisfied, he moved through the next sequence of steps, listening to the piano. Quad toe, triple toe, no problems. Yuzuru kept his face neutral, relaxed, moving with the music, entering the spin - quick, smooth, controlled. He focused on the sound of the music, careful to not miss any of his cues. Triple axel, smooth landing, he slipped into the next spin as the music built up and launched into the step sequence. Focusing on every element to come, every step, no time to think of anything else. He felt his final spin drift a little but kept it controlled. He could hear the crowd already applauding, their cheers exploding as he hit his final pose. He'd done it, a clean performance. The realisation, the immense satisfaction, hit him as he threw his arms down. He panted, bowing to the crowd, skin tingling from the adrenaline. He felt sharp, fierce, right. This was what he wanted from himself. This was what he expected of himself.

Brian hugged him as he came off the ice. Yuzuru could barely hear his praise, blood rushing through his ears. He complained the salchow could have been better, making Brian laugh.

106.33. Brian shouted out, surprised and delighted. Yuzuru’s head was spinning, pleased to take first, but part of him holding back from celebrating anything quite yet. The competition wasn't over. The score was a new highest, but last time he set a high score he had made mistakes in the free and had finished the competition with a sense of regret. He needed to stay focused. He wanted to hold on to this feeling until the free program, carry the energy over to the next performance.

He wondered what would happen, if he managed to skate two solid programs.

 

“Wow,” Keiji said, patting Yuzuru's back in the locker room. “Nice.”

Yuzuru smiled at him. “You watched?”

“Yeah of course.” Keiji rolled his eyes a little as if it was obvious. “What are you gonna do to celebrate?”

“Sleep.” Yuzuru laughed.

Keiji pushed his shoulder. “Lame!”

“I watched you too. Very sexy,” Yuzuru teased.

Keiji flicked his hair jokingly. “The girls are lining up for me as we speak.”

“Are you finally going to ask Zijun for her number then?”

Keiji choked. “No!”

“Lame!” Yuzuru mocked, laughing.

Boyang looked at them curiously. Yuzuru smiled at him again. “Hey, your short was really good.”

Boyang’s face lit up, the return of the charming smile. “Thank you.”

 

Yuzuru was nervous but confident. He had a good lead. He could afford to make some mistakes, but he didn't want to rely on other skater’s errors, he didn't want to depend on the little points cushion he had.

He nodded to Brian wordlessly, shaking his hand. He tried to empty his mind, going over his rituals like a mantra. He knelt, tapped the boards, skated back. Axis, he thought to himself, crossing over his body, straightening his back. Waist, shoulders, he thought, twisting his upper body to loosen up. He pressed his palms together and took position in the centre of the ice. He raised his hand, two fingers pointing towards the sky like a blade, as if aiming at some unseen target. He closed his eyes, took a sharp breath with the music, threw his arm over his head with the first beat of a drum, and began to skate.

He thought of each element before they came, listening carefully to the music. Focus narrowing down to just his own body, feeling the straightness of his posture, the tension in his arms, the familiar burn in his muscles. He hit each step, each jump, each spin. He felt the music inside him, the story they had built into the choreography, the character he created. A fire in his belly flared and took hold.

It seemed to go by so fast. The final beat of the drum rang out through the arena. Yuzuru gasped for air, smile breaking out on his face, ache in his left foot dulled by the thrill of knowing he’d skated a perfect program. Almost perfect - the quad-triple could have been better. The crowd roared. The joy that gripped his was beyond description. He’d done it. Yuzuru bowed, thanking the crowd for their support. He’d done it. Last year the crowds had pushed him forwards, kept him going to the end, now they celebrated with him. The training had paid off; the practising had paid off, the fighting had paid off.

He didn't have words for the feeling of achievement. It almost didn't matter that he had won first place - he'd be very confused if he somehow hadn't - it didn't seem to matter that he secured his place in the final. He had finally, finally, given the performance he wanted.

“I have no words,” Brian said, hugging him as he came off the ice.

Yuzuru giggled, “Good boy, right?”

Brian laughed. “Amazing.”

“Amazing boy,” Yuzuru corrected with a smile, slipping on his blade guards. They laughed as they walked to the kiss and cry.

“Are you ready?” Brian asked him gleefully as they waited for the scores.

Yuzuru laughed at his excitement. “I'm ready.”

“I'm not,” Brian chuckled.

216.07. Yuzuru’s eyes widened, looking at Brian in total shock, hands covering his face. 200 points had been a ceiling, not anymore. Yuzuru had crashed through it. 322.40. He blinked at the total score, not sure it was real. Overwhelmed. He rushed to kneel closer to the monitor, pointing at the score to Brian, checking that he saw the same thing. Suddenly it felt like there was no points ceiling, no limit. He thought about the quad sal in the short, the quad toe in the free, and felt a little buzz of confidence and determination - he could do those jumps better. He could skate these programs better. He could do even more.

 

When he returned to Canada, that's what he tried to focus on. He couldn't slack off. He had to make sure he could do two clean programs again. Knowing he could do it, that it was possible for him, that his body could produce two clean skates did give him a boost of confidence. He felt like he could push himself a bit harder in training and not fear ruining the progress he had made.

Javier high-fived him when he stepped on the ice.

“You got that gold medal then,” he said with a respectful nod of his head.

“You got yours too,” Yuzuru replied.

“I promised I would.”

Yuzuru laughed, flexing his feet in his boots. “I got my revenge.”

“Oh, that's what that was?” Javier grinned at him. “Maybe that's what I should do for Barcelona. Get my revenge.”

Yuzuru nodded. “I want to see your revenge.”

Javier looked out over the ice, determination rising within him. “I hope I can show it to you.”

 

It was a little comforting, familiar, to have the final in Barcelona again. Same city, same venue. It was familiar, friendly. Yuzuru knew that in the same way many Japanese skating fans adopted for Javier through his friendship with Yuzuru, many Spanish fans did the same. Despite being in Europe, despite being on another skater’s home turf, Yuzuru felt welcomed and supported in Barcelona. He felt the venue had some luck to it; the place where last year he was able to pull himself together to win, where he at least got a brief feeling of things going right. He hoped Barcelona would be good to him again, that he would have some luck here again.

He knew - as the competition began, as he practised, as the first men's event approached and he was warming up off the ice to work out his nervous energy - that everyone wanted to see him skate like he had at NHK again, but maybe held themselves back from expecting it. He had seen people call what he did at NHK a once in a lifetime performance. Something about that irked him. It made him think, rather petulantly, that he was able to do it again, maybe even do better. If he had done it once, he was capable of doing it again.

But this wasn't NHK, and he wouldn't be in front of his home crowd. It was a different day, different environment, different conditions. He couldn't reproduce the same program. So he didn't set that goal. He just wanted to skate the best he could.

Yuzuru was used to pressure, used to nerves. He felt, finally, to some degree, he had figure out how to get a hold on them. At least, he was managing not to let his nerves take over him.

Shoma greeted him politely at practice. He had grown up a little, since Yuzuru had last seen him. It was interesting to see the stubborn childishness slowly abandon Shoma’s face. Still boyish, still looking a little younger than he was, but changing. Yuzuru smiled at him, wished him good luck. It was always awkward - the days before an event, when nerves were high and friends were competition.

He didn't catch any of the other skater's performances, didn't slip his earphone out to hear their scores. Partially to avoid anything that might distract him or bring extra anxiety, which he didn't need, but also because he almost wasn't entirely focused on the competition. He was concentrated on the performance, getting himself ready for it, perfecting each element, showing the best he could.

Gentle piano music, starting soft and building up. Yuzuru released the tension in his body as he began to skate, attuning himself to the music, flowing over the ice. Smooth and calm, like water. He focused on his breaths, on the burn in his muscles. Music flowing through him. He felt it to his bones.

This time there were no problems. The vision of what he wanted was clear, and he leapt into that vision without fault. No hesitation, no awkward shift of weight or loss of axis in the air, no lazy free leg wandering too close to the ice on landing.

Yuzuru finished with a satisfied smile, slowly lowering his arms. He felt a rush of appreciation - the crowd that cheered him wildly, the Japanese fans that had travelled to watch him and the Spanish fans that waved Japanese flags enthusiastically to support him.

Brian shook his head, speechless, parting Yuzuru on the back as he came off the ice. “Wow.”

Yuzuru giggled, too tired to talk, too giddy. He slipped on his guards and nodded as Brian slipped off to speak to Javier.

He would get his score on his own. He had no idea what to expect, but he wanted higher than 106.

He saw Javier step out onto the ice. He knew Javier would be nervous, that he would be shaken by hearing Yuzuru’s score. Yuzuru shouted his support. He didn't want to see Javier disappointed in himself.

110.95. He threw up his fists triumphantly. The crowd seemed to explode around him, the loudest he ever heard. He tried to quieten them, to give Javier the moment he needed to focus his mind.

Javier had smiled at him before he set off to take his starting position.

Javier didn't manage to shake his nerves and maybe didn't manage to show his revenge. But he did enough for second place.

It was a pleasing result, but one flaw jumped out and bugged Yuzuru right up until he lay in bed and closed his eyes. The step sequence, he dropped a level on it. It was almost a comfort, to have that flaw there. He still had things he needed to improve, more steps to take to be perfect. His ideal was within reach, but he still had work to do in order to achieve it.

He felt to pressure, the weight of his previous scores hanging over him, the ever building nervousness inside of him.

The crowd was loud, enthusiastic, responsive. They hollered for Javier as Yuzuru warmed himself up a little on the ice. Javier had done well. Yuzuru had to beat him, in front of a crowd that loved him. He gathered himself, quashing the nerves, and prepared himself.

His mind changed the same mantra as always, to calm himself. _Shake Brian's hand, kneel, tap the boards twice, push back, check axis, loosen shoulders, press palms together; I can do it, I can do it, I can do it._

 

Yuzuru closed his eyes and took a breath. A sharp inhale; he had added the sound to help him immediately synchronise with the program music. A sharp breath in, like a blade being drawn, and out, as the drum was struck. Yuzuru moved, ready for the fight. He felt sharp, dangerous. Strong arm movements and precise steps to every beat and cymbal crash. He felt the coolness of the air against his skin as he picked up speed, jumped as if a wind carried him. Quad sal, perfect. Quad toe, perfect. He attacked the step sequence, the blades on his feet carving through the ice to make it his own. A pause, drawing an invisible blade, a soft moment as if admiring how it cut through the air. Light steps, like flower petals, carried on a spring breeze. Each section of the program, each jump, each spin, came from him as if it were natural. His body responsive to the music, as if his movements were releasing it. He held out his arms with the beats of the drum and transformed for the choreographic sequence. His body like a weapon, he became the blade, cutting through anything, anyone, that would hold him back.

He met his final position strongly. He felt powerful, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Relief, joy, achievement trickled through him. He held up his arm, pointing to the sky. Number 1. He smiled at Kikuchi mimicking the gesture back to him.

Yuzuru beamed at the camera as he waited for his scores, still buzzing from his performance. He laughed at the monitor showed where Javier and Shoma sat - Shoma awkwardly frozen with his water bottle once he realised he was being shown, Javier jokingly dropping his knees to bow at Yuzuru.

219.48. Brian had no words, just quietly smiling to himself as the score came out. 330.43. Overwhelmed, Yuzuru lay his face against Pooh’s soft head and let tears flow down his face. He was happy, tired, hyper. He wanted to jump, run around the venue, scream at the top of his lungs. No one had scored 200 in the free before he did, he had done it twice. No one scored 300 overall; he had done it twice. No one won the Grand Prix series three times in a row, yet here he was.

Yuzuru sat up and wiped his face, laughing. “Why am I crying?”

 

Shoma was awkward on the podium, perhaps in a mild state of shock that he had managed to get a medal at all. His smile was stiff. His eyes were oddly vacant; as if so overwhelmed by the competition and the attention and the press gathering in front of them his soul had straight up left his body. He climbed onto the centre to take him place next to Yuzuru for the photographers. Yuzuru smiled politely, Javier’s hand lightly touching the small of his back.

“Shoma, your arm,” Yuzuru whispered out the corner of his mouth, noticing Shoma still had his arms awkwardly hanging at his sides and looked lost.

“Huh?”

“Your arm. Put your arm around me.”

Nervous, Shoma hesitated, not sure what to do with the flowers and the plush toy he had in his hands, and touched Yuzuru’s elbow.

Yuzuru’s lips twitched in amusement. “No, put your arm around-”

Shoma slid his arm through Yuzuru’s linking them. Yuzuru couldn't hold back a torrent of giggles. Shoma looked flustered, fumbling with his flowers.

“This isn't our wedding, put your arm around my back!”

Shoma looked like he was about to die from embarrassment and hastily tore his arm back, putting it on Yuzuru’s back like he was supposed to. His nose scrunched up adorably as he started to laugh, his tension breaking, the nervousness slipping away for a moment as they turned to the cameras. Yuzuru tried to hold back his laughter, smiling widely for the press. He could hear Shoma’s cute embarrassed giggles from beside him.

It was the happiest Yuzuru had felt in a while.

 

“Shoma, smile!” Came a call from the press as they paused for photos after the press conference.

Yuzuru looked at Shoma, his face blank, eyes like a deer caught in the headlights. He reached around to grab Shoma’s cheek.

“Shoma, smile~” Yuzuru mimicked the press in a sing-song voice, tugging on Shoma’s cheek. When he let go, Shoma burst out laughing. The laugh that Yuzuru liked the most from him, the honest one where his nose scrunched up and he snorted a little. The camera shutters clicked, the press chuckled at their antics.  Shoma straightened himself and faced the cameras again with a genuine smile.

Yuzuru saw that smile and matched it.

 

“Do you have plans tomorrow?” Javier asked, taking the seat beside Yuzuru on the bus back to the hotel. Yuzuru looked at him quizzically.

“The gala?”

“After the gala.” Javier clarified. “Or between practice and the gala I guess.”

“Why?” Yuzuru asked, knowing better than to give a direct answer straight away. His answer entirely depended on what Javier wanted.

“I owe you a non-tourist view of Barcelona.” Javier smiled, leaning closer. “We can go after, like we did last year.”

Yuzuru felt his heart drop like a stone. Why did Javier remember things like that? Whenever Yuzuru felt normal, no longer on edge, his feelings tucked away and hidden from even himself, Javier seemed to say something that made Yuzuru feel his insides twist.

“I don’t think so.” Yuzuru shook his head. “I have many media. I have flight. I will be so tired--”

It was all true; the schedule didn't give much room for them to see the city after the competition. But they both knew that last year, under the same timetable, Yuzuru would have made time for at least a small moment with Javier, and suffered for it on the flight later. They both knew that they would have arranged to leave the banquet early or skip it entirely, something, before. Not anymore.

Javier rolled his eyes briefly, apparently attempting not to seem as annoyed as he felt.

“Okay,” Javier said shortly, disappointed. “It was worth asking, I guess.”

“Really, there is no time this year,” Yuzuru stressed, reading the sudden shift in Javier’s body language. “Are you mad at me?”

Javier pursed his lips, taking a deep breath for a moment. “I’m not mad at you.”

“You seem mad.” Yuzuru sulked a little. Maybe he was making excuses to not spend time with Javier, but they were valid excuses nonetheless.

“I just...I don’t understand, Yuzu.” Javier sighed. “I don’t know why you suddenly don’t want to be around me.”

Yuzuru was a little taken aback. It was true, but he hadn't thought Javier had noticed. He always accepted whatever reason Yuzuru gave to dodge whatever invitation Javier had given.

“I’m around you all the time,” Yuzuru said flatly.

“I mean alone. Not at practice, not in a group. Choosing to be around me not...forced to.” Javier didn't look at him, fiddling with his sleeves instead.

“Why is it matter if I am alone with you?” Yuzuru asked, a little annoyed. He was confused, as to what exactly Javier wanted, what he expected. Was it not enough that he had tried every day to hide his real feelings and be pleasant and friendly, even when the hurt was fresh and being around Javier had been painful? Why was it not enough that they were friends when they needed to be, why did Javier suddenly need Yuzuru to want to be with him off the ice?

“I guess it doesn’t,” Javier mumbled. “But sometimes I just miss spending time with you.” Javier looks up at him. Yuzuru’s heart lurches uncomfortably, not sure how to feel about hearing Javier say that.

“We were fine. Last year we had a great time walking around together. But since then any time I’ve asked you to hang out you’ve had an excuse.” Javier looked down again with another sigh. “I don’t know what changed.”

“Nothing changed,” Yuzuru lied.

“Something did.” Javier started to sound irritated. “If you don’t talk to me about it, how am I supposed to make it better?”

“You can’t make it better.” Yuzuru turned away, looking out the window, feeling too aware of the other skaters on the bus. Maybe Shoma and Boyang didn't speak great English, but Daisuke and Patrick did. Maybe they wouldn't listen deliberately, but they could overhear. He didn't want either of them picking up on anything that could be inferred by their conversation. “We shouldn't talk about this here.”

“Where are we supposed to talk? You know you won't let me in your hotel room--”

Yuzuru looked back at him. Damn right he wouldn't let Javier into his hotel room. He wondered if it was because he didn't trust Javier anymore, or if he didn't trust himself. He wasn't completely sure what exactly he thought would happen if he were to let Javier talk to him privately, but it felt too close, too intimate. He felt like he would say all the things he shouldn't say and create a problem. Even if it made no difference to Javier, and didn't drive any wedge between him and Miki, it could set fire to any friendship they had so far managed to salvage.

“Then we don't talk about it,” Yuzuru said a little snappily. “Forget it.”

Javier stood up, a little unstable on the moving bus, suddenly seeming infinitely more tired than he was at the beginning of the conversation. “If you change your mind, let me know.”

Yuzuru scowled at his reflection in the window.

Javier was a little uneasy with him again at gala practice, subtly keeping his distance, not talking to him. Yuzuru tried not to be annoyed at that. It would be easy, to just let Javier pout. It would be easy to just ignore him, not talk, gravitate towards Daisuke and Shoma and let Javier stick to other people. But Yuzuru didn't want anyone thinking they argued or asking why, and he knew that if they weren't their usual, friendly selves at the gala someone in the crowd would notice and question it.

So when Shoma glided passed them doing his cantilever move, Yuzuru broke the tension by trying to copy, shooting Javier a cheeky smile.

“Think you can do?”

“Nah.” Javier shook his head. Flexibility wasn't his strongest point.

“I think I fall over,” Yuzuru said, trying to lean back despite not moving. “Maybe you hold me up; I can do.”

Javier laughed. “No way. I don't want half of Japan coming after me if I drop you.”

“Maybe we can learn throw jump instead,” Yuzuru joked. “Like Johnny and Stéphane.”

Javier snorted. “We should ask them to show us next summer.”

“Fans in Japan would love it,” Yuzuru nodded, smiling.

By the time the gala started, Yuzuru was in a good mood. The tension between him and Javier was diffused, he had a good practice behind him and received a sweet compliment from the cute Russian girl that had won gold. Yuzuru was happy. He was ready to perform, to show his exhibition piece - something more artistic, more expressive, than his competition programs typically allowed, another chance to showcase his development, his growing maturity.

“Need help with the zipper?” Javier asked, after watching Yuzuru struggle with the back of his costume for a few minutes. Zippers tended to be tricky even for simpler costumes, but this one was hidden beneath soft ruffles of pale green and clusters of crystals. Yuzuru had always liked shower costumes, more ornate designs, lots of sparkles to emphasise movement and flowing fabrics. He liked to appear on the ice like a completely other being to what he was off of it - like something from fantasy. Such costumes did tend to be a pain to get on, though.

“Please,” Yuzuru whined, turning to offer Javier his back. Quick and efficient, Javier closed up the costume, gently adjusting the fabric at the back to make sure the zip was hidden and the fabric was sitting right on Yuzuru’s body.

“There,” Javier smiled as Yuzuru turned to face him. “Beautiful.”

Yuzuru hated how just a single word could knock all the air out of him.

But at the same time, the same single word could make him feel curiously happy.

 

Yuzuru yawned, closing up his suitcase for the final time. Gala finished, banquet done, he was ready to sleep and packed up ready to leave in the morning.

He wasn't annoyed at the buzz of his phone, but it was a little unexpected.  


 

> Shoma:
> 
> > Are you awake?  
> 

Yuzuru quickly typed that, yes, he was awake.  


 

> > Are you busy?  
> 

Almost as soon as Yuzuru had sent back that he wasn't busy, there was a knock on the door.

 

Yuzuru laughed a little as he went to open it revealing Shoma stood awkwardly in the hallway.

“Why didn't you just knock?” Yuzuru asked, stepping aside to let Shoma in.

“I was going to, but I thought I should check it was okay first.” Shoma shuffled in, looking endearingly embarrassed. “I wanted to give you something.”

“Oh?” Yuzuru closed the door and looked down at what Shoma held out for him.

“For your birthday,” Shoma explained as Yuzuru took the somewhat messily wrapped present. “I wanted to give it to you earlier, but we were competing, and I thought you were properly tired…” Shoma chewed his lip, head tilting cutely. “You're probably tired now too, but I won't have another chance so--”

“Thank you,” Yuzuru said softly, surprised that Shoma had bothered to get him a gift at all. He ushered Shoma into the room, sitting on the edge of the bed to open the gift. Shoma hovered in front of him, watching him unwrap it.

“Oh! A game!” Yuzuru smiled up at him, delighted.

“I liked playing with you in the summer,” Shoma mumbled. “But we don't have many of the same games, so I thought I'd get you one we could play together? And when we’re not around each other I can still see your progress and send you stuff for it…”

Yuzuru looked down at the game, lips parting for a soft exhale. A game to play together. He had been worried he had been bugging Shoma with his efforts to be more friendly; it was nice to have a Shoma reach out to him in return. He broke out into a huge grin, eyes disappearing into crescents.  “Thank you! That's sweet!”

Shoma blushed a little. “I got the same game, but I haven't played it much yet. I wanted to wait until you got yours so we could start at the same time.” He pulled his PSP out of his pocket and wiggled it in the air. “I thought we could play a little together, before we left?” He paused, hastily tacking on, “but if you're tired we don't have to!”

Yuzuru laughed a little and patted the spot beside him on the bed, gesturing for Shoma to sit next to him.

“We can play now,” he said. “I'm already packed up and stuff, so…”

Shoma smiled at him and sat down. Yuzuru grabbed his PSP off the nightstand where he had been charging it for his flight, and let Shoma guide his through the beginning of the game.

“First senior GP,” Yuzuru said, once they had gotten passed the awkward stage of Yuzuru figuring out what he was supposed to do and pairing up their consoles. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah. The competition was exciting.” Shoma nodded. “The gala was fun.”

Yuzuru grinned, he remembered the finale when he had pointed at Shoma, dancing at him. Shoma had doubled over laughing that cute way he did when he found something funny and embarrassing at the same time.

“It was fun,” Yuzuru agreed. “I'm so exhausted now though.  I don't even want to think about Nationals.”

“I like when events are close together,” Shoma murmured. “I don't get as nervous if I'm busy.”

Yuzuru hummed. “I guess it helps that you got bronze at your first GP?”

“It sounds cool when you say it,” Shoma said bashfully. “I'm just happy I didn't bomb.”

“It is cool.” Yuzuru nudged Shoma lightly with his shoulder. “I'm happy for you.”

Shoma looked up at him shyly. “Thank you.” He looked back down at his game, thumbs tapping away merrily. “I was happy to be on the podium with you. You’re my goal,” he said quietly. “You have been for a long time.”

Yuzuru paused for a moment, looking at Shoma a little surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah. Since you won Olympics. Or maybe before that, when you won Junior worlds.”

Yuzuru wrinkled his nose at the memory, smiling. Shoma had been tiny. “You got a medal with me.”

“Yeah. I want to be on the podium with you a lot.” Shoma doesn't look up from the game, but Yuzuru can see pinkness creeping into his cheeks. “I want to get to your level. Even last season-”

“Last season was awful,” Yuzuru groaned.

“Yeah,” Shoma said bluntly. “But, you still got good results. You still won GPF despite the accident. You still won Nationals even though you needed surgery--”

“I lost Worlds though,” Yuzuru pointed out, still a little sore from the loss.

“You still gave a good performance though. That’s what matters the most,” Shoma said kindly. “Really, with all that happening, you never gave up, and you fought so hard, seeing that I understood why you are champion.” He looked across at Yuzuru, warmth and sincerity in his eyes that Yuzuru hadn't expected. “You showed how strong you are.” Shoma looked back down at his game. “You make me want to work harder.”

Yuzuru was a little stunned, and incredibly touched by the respect Shoma had for him. “This...this means a lot to me. Coming from you.”

Yuzuru was already somewhat aware of how hard Shoma worked, how much he had developed and how quickly. That he had motivated Shoma in any way at all was possibly the highest compliment he could ever receive.

“I watched your free. You were great,” Yuzuru said warmly. “You’re not as far off from ‘my level’ as you think.”

Shoma shrugged. “I dunno. Every time I think I got a step closer you take ten more steps ahead.” Shoma cleared his throat, shifting on the bed to sit more comfortably. “When I skate well it's nice, when you skate well it's a world historical event.”

Yuzuru snorted. “I don't skate clean often, though.”

“I don't even mean when you skate clean. You don’t have to be perfect to be amazing,” Shoma told him with a kind of reverence in his voice that Yuzuru hadn't expected.

“You have qualities I don’t have,” Yuzuru said, an honest observation. “I could learn from you too. I see you at my level, if not now then very soon.”

Shoma bit his lip to hold back a confident little smile. “I guess we’ll see how the rest of this season goes.”

Yuzuru’s lips twitched in amusement. “I suppose so.”

“Who were your goals, when you moved to seniors?” Shoma asked, voice light.

“Daisuke. And Patrick.”

“How does it feel to overcome your goal?”

Yuzuru shrugged. “I dunno. I’ll let you know when I beat Patrick at Skate Canada and win Worlds three more times.”

Shoma laughed loudly. Yuzuru looked over at him. He’s reminded of a moment, years ago, when he had talked to Javier about their goals. Javier had told him he just wanted to do his best, be proud of whatever he managed to achieve. Yuzuru had told him bluntly that he wanted to be the best. Javier had smiled. Yuzuru always got a feeling like his ambition intimidated Javier a little. Javier always seemed a little afraid to admit he had ambitions of the same scale - too held back by the fear he would never reach them. He always downplayed what he wanted. That was before Yuzuru won at Sochi. Before he and Javier had ever kissed.

He had felt so close to Javier hearing his goals. The memory gave Yuzuru a little jolt, making him realise exactly how important it was that Shoma was telling him this. He had just thought it was a sweet little expression of admiration; something Yuzuru always valued whenever it happened, even if he felt strange about it. But this was different. This wasn’t Boyang telling him in the locker room that Yuzuru was like an idol to him, or a bright-eyed Evgenia telling him she hoped to skate as well as him at the gala. This was Shoma, someone he knew found it difficult to open up, telling Yuzuru his dreams.  
Yuzuru decided to share his own in return.

“I always wanted to be on the same level as Plushenko.” Yuzuru sighed happily, thinking if one of the greatest moments of his life. “I never thought I’d get to compete against him. When I did, I thought I was going to go crazy.” Yuzuru cherished the memory, despite it being a bit embarrassing. He was lucky, in that he had met both his idols and even shared the ice with them. “I want to reach that level. Where I’m like a moment in history. Where people will think of me as one of the best that ever was for years and years.” Yuzuru smiled at Shoma dreamily.

Shoma tilted his head, brow furrowing. “You know you’re already kinda there, right?”

Yuzuru shook his head furiously. “No, I’m not, not yet.”

“Yuzu.” Shoma shot him a sideways glance. “You just broke all the records twice in two weeks. That’s crazy.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” Yuzuru mused. They both laughed. Yuzuru shook his head again. “I still feel like I could do more.” He sighs a little, thinking about his level threes in his step sequences. He was still far from his ideal. And even if he did skate perfectly, there were always more complicated programs to challenge. “What I've done is great, but I’m not done yet. It’s not enough”

“I don’t think you’re done either,” Shoma agreed quietly. “I think you can do more too.”

“Second Olympic gold,” Yuzuru says dreamily.

“400 point barrier.”

Yuzuru burst out laughing. “150 for the short, 250 for the free?”

Shoma chuckled, waggling his head. “When you put it like that it seems possible.”

“How can I make up 40 more points for both programs?” Yuzuru wondered, a bit scared of the prospect.

“What’s the point in dreaming of you don’t dream big?” Shoma giggled. “That’s the thing with you. You can’t even joke about crazy goals. You’re so good anything seems possible.”

Yuzuru wrinkled his nose. “I’m not that good.”

“That’s why you are such a good goal for me. I might not ever reach you, but I know that trying will be worth it.”

“Maybe you'll be the one to break 400,” Yuzuru joked, making Shoma splutter.

“Do you even have any goals anymore?” Shoma asked once he had calmed down a little. “I guess now it’s enough to want to beat yourself.”

“Javier,” Yuzuru said softly.

Shoma eyebrows raised. “Ah, for worlds?”

“Yeah.”

“But...you’re still friends, right?”

“Yeah.” Yuzuru smiled a little stiffly. “Nothing’s changed. We still want each other to do well. We just also want to do better.”

Shoma hummed thoughtfully. “I like that. Even though you are rivals, you’re still friends.”

“We can be like that too,” Yuzuru offered. “I want you to do well. I’d be happy to cheer for you, even if we become rivals.”

Shoma looked a little sheepish. “I’ll work hard to become worthy of being a rival first.”He leant a little closer to Yuzuru, posture far more relaxed than when he had first sat down.“But I’d like that. When I reach your level, I’d like to meet you there as a friend.”

Yuzuru liked, very much, that Shoma had said ‘ _when_ ’, not ‘ _if_ ’. Yuzuru smiled. So many people thought Shoma was nothing more than a shy, timid boy. Yuzuru enjoyed the moments when he saw just how wrong they were. Shoma was no lost little boy, he was an athlete with a fire inside him that Yuzuru recognised, and Shoma’s fire burned just as strong as his own. He had no doubt that Shoma would become the worthy rival he wished to be and it excited him. Yuzuru had always wanted that. A rival that kept him running, kept him working, that was always right behind him ready to snatch away all his glory the second he slacked off, never letting him for a moment feel like any competition could be an easy win. Javier was that kind of rival, in a way, but it was special to see Shoma rising to occupy that space too. Yuzuru knew he could get there, be the kind of rival he’d been hoping for. He wanted to see it. It was already so close.

“Pinky promise.” Yuzuru stuck out his little finger at Shoma. “We can be friendly rivals.”

Shoma laughed a little and linked their fingers with a small shake. “Friendly rivals. I’ll still cheer for you.”

Yuzuru beamed at him. “I’ll cheer for you too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a bit late. I might have some issues writing posting as my main laptop broke last weekend and my new one might not arrive for another two weeks. I can write on my phone but I'm not comfortable editing/posting as the formatting becomes a mess. Hopefully I'll be able to work something out until my new laptop comes.
> 
> As always, please don;t be shy about commenting, I really love seeing what you think even if it's just one word :P


	10. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuzuru is not perfect. He is human. Just like everyone else.

**Comfort**

Pressure had a way of building up slowly. For a while, it would seem okay, like it wasn't a problem. Yuzuru would feel like he was handling it. Then all of a sudden the weight of that pressure would hit him.

It started to hit him in the run-up to Nationals. The performances at NHK and the final hung over him. The standard he needed to reach was at his fingertips, yet it was still so intimidating. He wouldn't need perfection at Nationals, but it spelt the end of the first half of the season, and the next stop was the world championships.  
Yuzuru wanted to keep his National title, and he wanted the World title to go alongside it once again, but he felt the swelling pressure to also live up to the performances of the past few weeks.

Figure skating as a sport had always been a combination of physical training, ability, mental strength, and luck. So many things factored into how a skater could perform on any given day. You could skate a program clean twenty times in practice and then pop a jump on the day of competition. Physical condition was a large factor - there was rarely a day when Yuzuru didn't have some ache in his muscles from training, but the feeling of tired muscles was not a problem; tightness or stiffness, however, could be the difference between landing a jump and falling on it. Yuzuru found that even small things, right down the how much food he ate or water he drank in the hours before stepping on the ice, could have an effect on his performance. Someone's mental condition was possibly the most significant factor. Hesitation going into any element could result in a costly mistake, but so could overconfidence. A bad practice or warm up could lead to overthinking during the performance and cause errors. There were other factors too from the condition of the ice to the state of your boots. Everything was precarious.

The expectation for Yuzuru to somehow, despite not being a particularly consistent skater at any point in his career previously, to continue the streak of clean performances was somewhat ludicrous. It was there, rising in the media and held in the hands of every fan who would watch either in person or at home. But nobody's expectations were higher than Yuzuru’s expectations of himself.

  
Yuzuru let out a breath as he stretched forwards, forehead almost touching his knees, feeling the stretch in his hamstrings and lower back. He held onto his feet, rubbing his toes a little before releasing and slowly sitting up. There was a tenderness in his left foot that bothered him, but not enough to cause serious problems. Still, it caused him to worry. It had hurt there before.

He paused for a moment, taking a mouthful of water and switching the song on his phone, mouthing along with the music as he resumed his stretching. Thighs, calves, back, shoulders. He warmed up each set of muscles before moving on, rehearsing the jumps, the steps, the arm positions. Brian watched silently, miming any corrections he wanted Yuzuru to make, or reminders he wanted to give. Yuzuru knew he wasn't just watching to check physical preparedness before the short program, but also watching for signs of nerves, pain, or excess stress so he could try to deal with it before the six-minute warm up.

Neither the short or the free program went how Yuzuru wanted them to. A fall on the opening salchow in the short, a fall on the toe-loop resulting in a missed combination in the free and various errors throughout the second half of the free. The salchow was a mistake in speed, timing, and air position; too anxious to get in the air and get the first jump landed clean, Yuzuru had gone into the jump too fast, too tense. The errors in the free were more bothersome.  
A sharp pain in his left foot as he struck the ice for the first toe loop had played on Yuzuru's mind when he lined up for the combination. Anticipating the same pain, he tensed up, throwing the jump off.

Brian patted his shoulder reassuringly, told him that he did a good job as the scores came in. Yuzuru put on a smile and thanked the crowd for their support. He didn't tell Brian about the weight of expectation he felt on him or the bursts of pain in his left foot. He didn't mention the cold feeling settling in his veins or the darkness that started to cloud his mind. It could wait. He'd be okay.

It was disappointing to lose the momentum he had built over the Grand Prix series. He wondered how much the media, the crowd, shared his disappointment at his inability to produce another clean set of programs. He had done enough to win, but as he stood on the podium holding his gold medal, smiling out to the crowd, he felt something heavy in the pit of his stomach. A curl of dread - that he had peaked too soon in the season and the only way was down. He had to make sure that didn't happen. He had to do better than this at the World Championships.  
His left foot throbbed.

 

Yuzuru said nothing about his disappointment or the tenderness in his left foot as he sprawled out on the floor with Ryuju, Keiji, and Shoma. It was their time to talk about something other than competitions, something other than training or world standings or points margins. It was something they all needed.

“Oh!” Yuzuru burst out mid-conversation. “Before I forget, Shoma I have something for you.”  
  
Shoma looked a little confused, watching Yuzuru throw open his suitcase and rummage around.  
  
“For your birthday.” Yuzuru grinned as he presented the gift to him. Shoma looked at it as if he expected it to spontaneously burst into flames. Keiji and Ryuju cooed behind him.  
  
“You didn't have to,” Shoma murmured, looking distinctly embarrassed.  
  
“I know, but I wanted to,” Yuzuru said as Shoma took the gift. “It's nothing special, I'm not good at gifts, and I didn't know what you’d want--”  
  
Ryuju snorted as Shoma carefully unwrapped it. “Of course you got him earphones. You're such a nerd.”  
  
“Oh,” Shoma said softly, looking up at Yuzuru with an uneasy sort of smile. “This is actually useful, the right ear on my pair broke a few days ago.”  
  
Yuzuru beamed. “These are good ones! They don't look flashy or anything, but they have a nice clear sound and a kind of warmer tone, so they are nice when you want to calm down before an event--”  
  
“He can talk about this for hours,” Keiji said flatly to Shoma, who seemed a little taken aback by Yuzuru’s sudden, rapid, enthusiastic advertisement for the earphones.  
  
Yuzuru pouted. “They should last awhile too. Unless you put them in the laundry or something.”  
  
Shoma’s lips quirked as if that's exactly how he broke his last pair. “Thanks. I-I really appreciate it.”  
  
“You are officially Yuzu’s friend now,” Ryuju joked. “You're never a true friend until he's bought you earphones.”  
  
Shoma looked back down at the little box, smiling a little wider than before.

 

Yuzuru sat on the edge of his bed, holding out his legs, and looked down at his feet. His mouth twisted into an unhappy grimace. His left foot was swollen. He put his legs down, feet flat on the floor, and tried to put pressure on his left side. He winced, pain shooting up his leg. He wouldn't be able to train on it, he decided. He slowly shifted his weight onto his right side, which was apparently okay, to try to locate the exact source of the pain. The ball of the foot, he decided, between his first few toes. That's where the pain was coming from.  
He lifted the foot again and sighed. He had just over ten weeks until Worlds; he was supposed to return to Toronto in a few days to get into training to prepare. He didn't want to deal with an injury right now.

“Ma!” He yelled out. Waiting to hear the shuffle of his mother coming to his room, she peered around the door.  
  
“What?”  
  
“There’s something wrong with my foot,” Yuzuru said, gesturing down to the swollen left foot.  
  
She made a concerned little noise and came to sit beside him. He swung his leg up for her to take a closer look.  
  
“Does it hurt?” She asked, gently feeling the swelling but not prodding too much, scared of making any injury there worse.  
  
“It's been a little sore for a while,” Yuzuru admitted, downplaying the twinges of pain he'd been feeling in practices and Nationals. “But I can't even stand on it right now.”  
  
She sighed. “I'll call the rink and tell them to cancel your booking today. We’ll make sure nothing is broken, okay?”  
  
Yuzuru nodded tensely. There were a lot of bones in the foot; he hoped none of them were broken.  
  
“Send a message to Brian, okay?”  
  
“I'll message him when we know what’s wrong,” Yuzuru replied a little petulantly. “It might be nothing.”  
  
She huffed at him. “Fine. But even if it is nothing serious you still have to tell him. He needs to know these things.”  
  
“I know.” Yuzuru sniffed, he didn't want to make a big deal out of stuff like this, but he knew Brian had to work around it. Pretending it didn't exist would make even the smallest issue a huge problem. “I'll tell him when we get back.”  
  
“No,” his mother looked at him sternly. “You'll tell him before.”  
  
“Fine,” Yuzuru grumbled.  
  
“Now, get dressed, I'll call the hospital to check your doctor is available.”

 

The X-ray looked normal, the MRI, however, did not.  
The had doctor winced at Yuzuru, allowing him to brace for the blow.  
The doctor had dealt with all of Yuzuru’s questions, showed the images to him, patiently pointing out the problems area - displacement between the metatarsal bones in the second and third toe, indicating damage to the Lisfranc tendon complex. Yuzuru felt resigned. The toe-loop. He had been practising it fairly heavily to build up the reliability of his quad and combinations. That was the only jump where he used his left foot to pick off from the ice. A minimum of two months rest with a cast, as suggested, was out of the question. That would mean absolutely no training the entire run-up to Worlds and, likely, having to withdraw. There was no way Yuzuru could agree to that.  
He had three record high scores hanging over him. The buzz from media and fans. The rising expectation from all around him, from within him, that he would take back the world championship and deliver two more perfect performances. The injury was another weight to be added to his shoulders. 

 

“Well, what do you want to do?” Brian asked once Yuzuru had returned to Toronto.  
  
They had discussed some options with Yuzuru’s immediate team, but he had made it clear to Brian and everyone else that he did not want this to be public knowledge, did not want any sponsors to know and did not want to the entirety of the JSF to know. The five or six people in on the injury already felt like too many. He didn't want to be pushed into making one decision or another. It had to be his choice what he would do.  
  
“I want to go to worlds,” Yuzuru said flatly. “Problem is left foot, can't do toe loop but other jump is okay.”  
  
Brian nodded, lips thinning to a straight line. “So, for the next two months we’ll not train your toe loop, we’ll focus on your edge jumps instead.”  
  
Yuzuru nodded grimly. It wasn't ideal. “For free change to two quad sal.”  
  
“We can do that,” Brian tapped his pen against the desk. “My compromise I want from you is to cut down on your on-ice training and increase your resting time. One day on, one or two days off. Okay?”  
  
Yuzuru looked down miserably. This was not what he wanted ahead of a major competition, but his foot was likely to swell and bruise whenever he trained, he would need that time between sessions just to be able to get his boots on.  
  
“Okay.” Yuzuru wasn't happy about it, but he agreed. He had no choice.  
  
“We’ll just have to hope we don't create more damage in the meantime, but you will likely need that two months in a cast after worlds. You know that, right?” Brian’s voice was concerned, gentle.  
  
Yuzuru chewed the inside of his mouth. Two months off the ice would always be a problem. “As long as I finish Worlds it’s okay.”

  
Yuzuru looked through his sweaty bangs up at the wall. World Champion: Javier Fernandez, 2015. He took a series of deep breaths, holding onto his knees. Javier had won the European championships again, with a total score of 302.77, changing his layout for his short program to add a second quad. Yuzuru knew it was natural, that other skaters vying for the gold medal at worlds would be at least tempted to up their game in the second half of the season.  
Yuzuru had put out a challenge when he broke 200 in the free skate and broke 300 overall. He was happy that Javier was rising to the challenge, but it added to the pressure Yuzuru felt. He was chasing Javier, and in a way, Javier was chasing him too. He could practically feel Javier’s breath on his neck, telling Yuzuru that his scores could be matched if he wasn't perfect. If Yuzuru had proclaimed in the Grand Prix that he would be putting up a fight for the world championship, Javier was answering that it would not be easy for him. Then there was Boyang, with his quad lutz and high technical score making up for what lacked in his presentation. And Patrick, who had beaten him once this season and would be eager to prove himself not out of the race. And Shoma, who shouldn't be underestimated.  
Yuzuru knew the only way to guarantee a win would be to present two clean programs. Yet there he was; unable to practice one of the key jumps in his arsenal, skating on an injured foot. The darkness in his mind was growing. It wasn't a cloud so much as it was a stain. He couldn't shake it off.  
  
He wiped the sweat from his brow as he straightened himself, and started skating again.

There was tension in the air when Javier returned from Europe. It wasn't unusual, but perhaps more pronounced than usual. Javier was as focused as Yuzuru was, training hard. Now wasn't the time for fun and games.

“Congratulations,” Yuzuru said with a weak smile the first quiet moment they got together.  
  
Javier smiled, appreciating the small kind word. “Hopefully I can have some momentum for Worlds.”  
  
“I hope I've not lost mine,” Yuzuru said, trying to make it sound like a joke, but falling a little flat. His eyes betrayed him, some of his worry revealing itself.  
  
Javier squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “I'm sure we’ll both do our best.”  
  
“It'll be a good fight,” Yuzuru said, expression sharpening a little. He had needed the spark of competition between the two of them. That's what pushed him forward, the bright flame that cut through the anxiety and pressure. “You're the only one I'll accept beating me.”  
  
Javier laughed a little. “I'll try. Don't make it easy for me.”  
  
Yuzuru smirked. “Never.”

  
  
It had always been interesting, how they got through the weeks before any competition where they went against each other. The first half of the season was always easier, with them usually heading to different Grand Prix events until the final then splitting off for nationals and for Javier to do Europeans. They overlapped, and would eventually meet in competition, but there was enough separation for them to cheer each other on. Yuzuru liked competing against Javier, but training alongside each other was always easier when they weren't.  
There was a balance to be maintained between their matched thirst to win, their competitiveness, their focus in training to be enough to beat the other and little gestures to assure each other that there was no animosity. Yuzuru clapped when Javier landed his jumps or finished a run through, Javier picked Yuzuru up whenever he fell. They gave each other the space they both needed but reached out to let each other know there was no ill feeling in that distance.

Yuzuru marked where the toe-loops would be, making sure the transitions into the jump were at least confident and sure. He still had three weeks until he could reintroduce the toe-loop to his routines, and even then it would be sparing and cautious, with just two weeks to build some confidence in the jump before he was heading to Boston. He focused on the step sequence, on the edge jumps, on getting the second salchow in the second half of the free program. He couldn't practice the combination correctly, not yet, but if the leading jump was stable enough, he should be able to add it. He hoped.

The situation with his foot and his training made him feel uneasy as the competition drew closer. He was expected to perform well. He was expected to win. He didn't want to be a disappointment.  
He had gotten so close to performing flawlessly, but even in Barcelona, something was lacking. There was the step sequences dropping a level, the jumps that still required some polish on the landings. He wasn't sure he could give the perfect programs he wanted so badly, not when he wasn't confident his foot had healed, be he strived for it anyway.

  
  
Yuzuru’s eyes swept around the rink as he bounced lightly, keeping the muscles in his thighs warm. The ice seemed a little narrower than most other venues for competitions; something he would have to bear in mind when setting up his jump trajectories or doing his step sequences. It put him a little on edge, it was such a small difference in the dimensions of the ice, but it mattered. It mattered a whole lot during practices when he’d be on the ice with five other skaters all moving independently of one another. He set Pooh down on the edge of the boards, facing towards him, and toyed with his ears, wanting the calm smile of his plush bear to influence him before he started the first practice of the competition. He didn’t feel calm, he never did at competitions, but he felt particularly off-kilter here. The weight of the expectations he built in the first half of the season, his foot, his far-from-perfect performances at Nationals and now the rink being small…

He had been trying to hide his growing nervousness from his team. He knew as well as they did that if he was speaking a lot, very fast, it wasn’t a great sign; so he tried to hold himself back, but he was doing a lousy job of it. Words seemed to burst from his mouth like they had a life of their own - stupid things like the weather, how he’d never been to Boston before, pointless little observations he made as they walked through the venue.  
Brian put his hand on Yuzuru’s shoulder as he babbled about the feel of the air around the ice - a little on the warm side, compared to other rinks he had skated at.  
“Yuzu, it’s fine,” Brian said gently. “Take a breath. Count from ten. It’s just another practice.”

Just another practice. His foot just needed to hold up for another week and then he could get it checked again to see what he needed to do to guarantee it was fully healed and wouldn’t relapse. He tried to focus as he warmed up and ran through a few elements. His eyes frequently flicked around the ice to assess where everyone was, where they were moving, what he needed to do to stay out of their paths as he waited for his time to run through his short program. That wariness was practically second nature, though a little heightened from the stress he was feeling.

He took a breath as he faced the small crowd that had come to watch the first practice, loosening up as the first notes of the piano filled the rink. Not too much echo, which was good.  
He set off, movements ingrained into muscle memory, no difficulties with his salchow. He eased out of the spread eagle and moved through the transition steps, lining up for the toe loop combination. He popped it, distracted upon take-off my another skater straying a little too close to his jump path. A little irritated, he gathered himself, trying to shrug off the small kick of panic skaters crossing his path too close always brought him.  
He hadn’t planned to run through his spins, so waited for his next cue to line up for the axel, landing it with a degree of satisfaction. He cast his eyes around the ice again, checking the other’s trajectories before starting his step sequence, making sure all his steps and turns were there and precise. About to wrap up the sequence, he was forced to stop - aborting the set of twizzles he was due to do, as the same skater as before cut right through his path again. His stomach flipped. Annoyed, he watched the skater pass, Denis; someone who should know better. The final chords rang out as Yuzuru ran through his final spin. He bowed to the crowd, who lightly applauded, and went over to Brian.

  
“Problems with the toe loop?” Brian asked, handing Yuzuru his water.  
  
“No. Just lost focus.” Yuzuru wrinkled his nose, irritated at the interruptions. It was not a particularly big problem, but it was impolite and careless.  
  
“Just go through your cool down, and we’ll get it right tomorrow, okay?” Brian instructed, clearly wanting to move on, perhaps not noticing the cause of Yuzuru’s loss of concentration. Yuzuru decided it was better not to mention it.  
  
He tried to shake it off through the rest of the practice, but he couldn’t stop himself from routinely glancing around to take note of where each person was.

 

“You cut me off,” Yuzuru said, a little sharply, to Denis as they walked away from the ice. Yuzuru didn't consider himself as someone who held a grudge, but he was unnerved by the disturbances.  
  
Denis looked at him, a little confused. “Huh? Me?”  
  
“In my run through. You cut me off twice.” Yuzuru tried to keep his tone lighter, softer, more neutral. “You skate into my path too close. If I don't notice I might hit you.”  
  
“Oh.” Denis rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Sorry I really hadn't noticed.”  
  
“Well,” Yuzuru said, unhappy and not entirely convinced Denis hadn't realised. “Please be more careful.”

  
“I will.” Denis shrugged as if it was no big deal, which added to Yuzuru’s irritation. “I hope it didn't bother you too much.”

  
They parted ways. Javier caught Yuzuru’s eye, pulling a face as if to ask what was wrong. Yuzuru just shook his head. Maybe he was just over-reacting. It didn’t matter, so long as it didn’t happen again.

 

It did happen again. This time Yuzuru looked over his shoulder, ready to jump into his axel, only to see Denis right in the middle of his jump path entering a camel spin.  
Yuzuru quickly altered his path and jumped, but the entry was wrong and his mind too full of anger to properly concentrate and correct his body position. He crashed into the ice, sliding backwards into the boards. Rage bubbled up from the pit of his stomach, and he slammed a fist against the boards behind him. As he got up, Denis existed his spin and calmly skated past.  
“Was that fucking necessary?” Yuzuru yelled out, too angry to hold it back.  
Rattled, he skated back out and tried to get through the rest of his routine, but his concentration was shot to pieces. His skin tingled unpleasantly, little waves of nausea washing over him whenever someone passed by him. He spent the rest of the practice stalking around the ice, keeping an eye on Denis’ movements, not wanting to get in his way again.  
  
“Calm down,” Brian whispered to him.  
  
Yuzuru snatched up his water with shaky hands, biting out, “I’m fine,” before skating away again.  
  
Shoma looked over at him with large, worried eyes, and was careful to not cross his path.

 

Yuzuru was tense as they entered the locker room, taking off his boots with stiff shoulders, throwing his bag onto the bench a little violently. The rational part of his mind was, seemingly, temporarily hibernating. His breath came out quick and uneven, everything from his clothes to the air around him feeling somehow abrasive. The presence of other people in the room made him want to run and find somewhere he could be alone. Just until he could get a grasp on himself and regain control of his emotions, but there was part of him that knew he had to go through the motions and do what was expected - pack up his boots, change into looser training clothes, take a break and head for the off ice training area. He didn't want to do that right now; he wanted to go to the hotel room, shower the sweat off his skin and scream into a pillow.

Javier stood close, not even an arm’s length away. He spoke slowly, quietly, an attempt made to make his voice less grating. “Are you okay?”  
  
“I’m fine,” Yuzuru said, short and flat. It was a stupid question.  
  
Javier reached out and touched Yuzuru’s shoulder to comfort him the only way he knew how to, the only way that came naturally to him. Yuzuru flinched away, too sensitive. Javier pulled his hand back immediately, taking a step back to give Yuzuru more space, looking down at the slight tremble in Yuzuru’s hands.  
Denis, coolly and calmly as if nothing was amiss, took up residence on the adjacent bench. Yuzuru’s jaw tightened, another flare of anger. Was he not even going to apologise?  
  
Javier looked at Denis, mirroring Yuzuru’s spark of annoyance. “What the hell was that?”  
  
“What?” Denis asked innocently, eyebrows raising a little as if completely clueless.  
  
“This is the second time you’ve gotten in his way this week.” Javier gestured at Yuzuru.  
  
Denis rolled his eyes, looking at Yuzuru rather than Javier. “We talked about this yesterday.”  
  
Yuzuru’s jaw tightened. He tried to push down his temper. “Yes,” He began irritably. “I told you be more careful. Today you do again.”  
  
“I didn't do anything-”  
  
“You do on purpose.” Yuzuru narrowed his eyes. He couldn’t say why Denis would feel driven to try to push his buttons, but it felt deliberate. He was already stressed, already anxious, it felt like Denis wanted to give him the final push towards the anxiety attack he was right at the edge of.  
  
Denis’ back stiffened at the accusation. He spoke a little sharper than before. “No, I didn’t. I’m just trying to get through my practice like everyone else.”  
  
“Whatever. We all know each other’s patterns enough to not get in the way of someone’s jump path. You know you should stay out the way in someone’s run through.” Javier looked at him darkly, making an effort to speak clearly. “I know what you are trying, and it’s fucked up.”  
  
Denis sighed, exasperated. “What am I supposed to be doing?”  
  
“You’re messing with him.”  
  
Yuzuru reached out, tugging on Javier’s wrist. He didn’t need Javier fighting on his behalf; he needed a quiet place and some time alone. He could tell the others were listening in, whether they wanted to or not. He didn’t want the whole group to leave the room thinking Yuzuru couldn’t fight his own battles. “Javi, don’t.”  
  
Javier ignored him, apparently as angry at Denis’ antics as Yuzuru was. “I don’t get what game you’re playing, but you need to cut it out.”  
  
Denis frowned, rapidly becoming more defensive. “I’m not doing shit. Maybe you’re lucky and don’t have to share ice much-”  
  
“You think we don’t train with a dozen other skaters daily?”  
  
“Then you should know this stuff just happens sometimes,” Denis said flatly.  
  
Yuzuru rolled his eyes. The suggestion that he was somehow pampered and couldn’t deal with sharing the ice was completely ridiculous and just annoyed him even more. He had been struggling to keep up with the quick exchange between Javier and Denis, his English not quite as good as theirs, not able to retort as fast as them, but he was still able to speak for himself. “We know to stay out of each other way. You should learn too.”  
  
“This isn't about being spoiled for ice space. Maxim got in my way today,” Javier said, gesturing towards where Maxim was rummaging through his bag. Maxim looked up in alarm at being mentioned as if begging not to be brought into the argument. Javier continued, “I’m not bothered because I know he didn’t do it on purpose. You have been getting in Yuzu’s way all week. What you are doing is shitty.”  
  
Denis sighed in irritation. “I really don’t get what you think I’m trying to do.”  
  
“Don’t play dumb,” Javier said impatiently. Yuzuru gave another little tug on his wrist, wanting him to stop talking. Anxiety was not uncommon amongst competitive skaters, definitely not at major events like Worlds, but the last thing Yuzuru wanted was for all of his main competitors knowing he was susceptible to such attacks and could be manipulated by just a few on-ice interruptions.  
  
Denis picked up his bag, ready to move elsewhere to cut the conversation short. “I’m not trying to mess with Yuzuru,” He said sharply, head tilting a little as if he found something curious, almost amusing. “But it’s funny, that if I was trying to mess with him, it seems I’ve managed to mess with you too.”  
  
Javier’s eyes narrow. “What?”  
  
“Is that how it is? Someone upsets Yuzuru; you come running? You’re a real two-for-one deal, huh?”  
  
Javier tensed. “We’re rink mates.”  
  
Denis smirked. “Is that all?” He looked down at where Yuzuru was holding onto Javier’s wrist. “I have a lot of rink mates; I don't treat any of them the way you treat him. You’re quite the little couple.”  
  
Yuzuru dropped Javier’s wrist, hand balling into a fist. In a far corner, he heard Patrick suck in a sharp breath, wincing as Denis crossed a line.  
  
“What you say?” Yuzuru raged, taking a step forward. Javier grabbed his shoulder to hold him back.  
  
“You ought to watch your temper,” Denis said with a cluck of his tongue. Yuzuru backed down, chest heaving, trying to hold himself back and calm himself down.  
  
“You ought to watch your fucking mouth,” Javier snapped.  
  
“Javi--” Yuzuru tugged on his arm a third time, a little harder. Javier was getting angry, Denis clearly finding a good sore spot to get to him. The argument was too fast, and too close to getting out of control. They were no longer merely bickering, but getting nasty. Yuzuru needed it to end, needed them both to stop throwing gasoline onto his mix of anxiety and anger. Yuzuru could hear Patrick grumbling for them to cut it out.  
  
“Maybe instead of thinking of ways to fuck with people you should focus more on your skating,” Javier snapped spitefully.  
  
Denis flared. “I guess you’re the only one who gets to fuck with Yuzu, right?”  
  
There was a collective wince amongst everyone in the room, the Russian skaters taking their cue to make a hasty exit. Yuzuru could feel his face grow hot, unable to speak he was so furious, hands balled so tight his nails cut into his skin.  
  
“I’ll be focusing on my skating,” Denis said acidly. “I suggest you do the same.”  
  
Yuzuru watched as he walked out the room and slammed his fist into a locker, making Shoma - who was kind of lost and confused by the whole scene - jump.  
  
“You shouldn’t said anything!” Yuzuru barked at Javier.  
  
Javier looked a little guilty like he knew damn well that he had made things a lot worse. “He knows what he’s doing, and I’m not going to stand for it.”  
  
“It has nothing to do with you,” Yuzuru hissed. “I don’t need you to protect me.”  
  
“Don’t point your anger at me. I’m on your side, remember?” Javier said unhappily.  
  
Yuzuru glared at him. “I'm not so weak I can’t handle myself. I don’t need you on my side.” He turned to his bag, angrily taking out a clean t-shirt. Muttering angrily in his native language. “You’re not my boyfriend, stop trying to act like it.”  
  
“Hey, I understood enough of that,” Javier said, a little affronted.  
  
Yuzuru looked up at him sharply. “Good. You need to stop. You do too much, and it piss me off.”  
  
“Who taught you to swear?” Javier joked, trying to lighten the mood.  
  
“You and Nam,” Yuzuru said shortly, feeling himself defuse a little. Javier started to smile. “Don't, Javi, I’m not in mood for joke.”  
  
“Come here.” Javier sighed and pulled Yuzuru close, wrapping his arms around Yuzuru’s waist.  
  
Yuzuru wiggled, pushing where his arms were trapped against Javier’s chest. “No, get off.”

  
“You need to calm down,” Javier said plainly. Yuzuru stopped fighting and let himself go limp in Javier’s arms. He closed his eyes, breathing against Javier’s neck. Javier rubbed his back slowly. “I don’t think you’re weak but I know stuff like this gets you anxious, and I hate seeing you have a hard time.”

  
“It’s bad enough I yell at him. Now you yell too, so it make me look more bad,” Yuzuru murmured.

  
“That’s not what I wanted; I just wanted him to apologise and stop.”

  
Yuzuru made a soft sound of protest. “I don’t need you to do that--”

  
“I know you don’t, okay?” Javier pulled back just enough to look down at Yuzuru, bringing a hand up to lightly touch Yuzuru’s cheek. “I know you can stand alone, but it bothers me that he’s trying to get to you. Don’t let him, okay?”

  
Yuzuru didn’t speak, letting his head fall back onto Javier’s shoulder, trying to reign in his emotions as Javier ran soothing fingers over the back of his head. He could hear the shuffling of the other men in the room going about their business and felt the weight of eyes on him. It put him on edge, Denis’ taunts still hanging in the air.

Then Javier just had to say the exact wrong thing to throw any semblance of calm he had achieved right out of the window.

“Just because I’m not your boyfriend anymore doesn’t mean I can't stand up for you,” Javier whispered softly into his ear.  
  
The response was visceral. Yuzuru felt like he was about to throw up. He roughly pushed at Javier’s chest. Javier caught his shoulders, trying to hold him still, a little confused at the violent reaction.  
“No, stop pushing me away,” Javier said gently. Yuzuru felt like his insides were freezing up. “Stop pushing me away when I’m trying to help you.”  
Yuzuru jerked out of Javier’s grasp. “You’re not helping.”  
  
Javier took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.” He picked up his bag, tossing it over his shoulder. If Yuzuru wanted space, that’s what Javier would give to him. “Talk to Brian-”  
  
“I don't need talk to Brian,” Yuzuru sulked.  
  
“Yeah, you do. He needs to know if you are having a hard time.”  
  
“Brian has to care for Nam, has to care for you--”  
  
Javier looked a little impatient. “He’s here for you too.”  
  
“I can cope myself.”  
  
Javier sighed. “Do whatever you need to. Don’t let Denis get to you.”  
  
Yuzuru sat on the bench and held his head in his hands. He didn’t want to talk; he wanted to get on with what he was supposed to be doing. He couldn’t deal with trivial issues now; he needed to get through the competition and not waste time that could be spent in better ways by talking about he might be feeling to people who might be able to help. He didn’t want comfort; he didn’t want help. His anxiety, like the twinges of pain in his foot, needed to be pushed down, ignored, a problem to be dealt with another day.

  
  
Yuzuru felt strange before the short program. He thought he had maybe calmed down a little during his warm ups backstage, but as he waited to go out on the ice, he realised he was far from calm.

He felt cagey, restless, but an odd, indescribable feeling came over him as he knelt as he slipped the guards off his blades and stepped onto the ice. A floating feeling, as if viewing everything from a distance, still in his body but paradoxically not. He felt himself kneel and tap the boards as an automatic action, ran through his routines almost robotically. The crowd cheered, and he heard them, but they felt distant. He felt small as he took position in the centre of the ice, trying to control his breathing and ease the jangling nerves and uncomfortable twisting of his stomach. There was a bizarre pulling sensation at the base of his neck that wasn’t really physical, not a pain, but a weight. It was as if the weight of the Grand Prix series, the injury of his foot, the interference from Denis, the argument with Javier had been given form and was laid over him like a blanket.  
Anger still simmered in the pit of his stomach, anxiety still humming at the back of his mind but it was slightly numb. Like the crowd, it felt far away. Present but out of reach.

He closed his eyes, huffed out a breath and skated. The detached feeling made it easier to envision the skating he wanted to produce, the entries to the jumps, the landings, the steps in between. A jolt of pain after the quadruple toe loop had him hesitate for a fraction of a second before he completed the combination, but he pushed through it. He put it behind him.  
He struck his final pose, heart thumping wildly, panting for air. The weight lifted for a moment, the realisation he had managed to do it again - managed to skate clean again, hitting him. Despite the injury, despite the anxiety, despite the arguments and interference he had put out a performance that matched NHK and Barcelona. He yelled out as he threw down his arms, not sure who he was yelling to - the crowd? The world? Denis? Javier? Himself?  
He felt grateful as he bowed to the crowd. Tired and quiet as he waited for his score. Not a new record, but close to it. 110.56.  
He was satisfied. Relieved. He could smile again. He started to feel like himself again.

  
Exhaustion seeped through every muscle right to Yuzuru’s bones. His foot twinged painfully with every step. He ran a towel over his damp hair, his loose t-shirt clinging slightly to where his skin was a little moist from his shower. He carefully lay his damp towel to dry and padded around the room in his shorts, barefoot, desperately needing to rest but still too keyed up to sleep.  
There was a knock at the door.

“Can I come in?” Javier asked, expression pensive, braced for rejection. Yuzuru considered shutting the door, shutting Javier out in the hallway. He had been shutting Javier out a lot lately. He couldn’t say it was doing him a whole lot of good.  
  
Yuzuru hesitated but ultimately stepped aside, opening the door a little wider, letting Javier in.  
Javier hovered by the door for a moment as Yuzuru crossed the room to sit on the bed.

“Is it okay if I sit?” Javier asked, still a little uncomfortable.  
  
“It’s okay. You can sit.” Yuzuru watched him curiously. It had been some time since they had been a room alone together, but he hadn’t really expected Javier to be nervous about that fact. Perhaps he was cautious, not to push his luck and have Yuzuru throw him out again. Javier perched beside Yuzuru, letting out a long breath.  
  
“I want to apologise.” Javier looked at Yuzuru, a little embarrassed, a little ashamed.  
  
“Apologise?” Yuzuru repeated, confused.  
  
“For how I acted at practice.” Javier grimaced. “I...You were--” Yuzuru tilted his head as Javier struggled to find the right words. “I handled it badly. I don’t think I could have handled it worse if I tried. I know you were having a hard time and I made it worse. I’m sorry.”  
  
Yuzuru looked down at his knees, smiling a little. Javier knew he was having a kind of anxiety attack and had charged into the situation completely unequipped to deal with it. At least he knew he had messed up.  
  
“Yes, you made worse,” Yuzuru agrees. “You were very bad.”  
  
“I’m really sorry,” Javier said again, pained. “When you were anxious before you...it was different, and I kind of knew what to do with it, but I had no idea what to do with you angry like that.”  
  
“Well,” Yuzuru started, biting his lip in mild amusement. “Making fight with Denis was not good help.”  
  
Javier groaned, clearly distressed. “I know.”  
  
“I also didn’t know what to do.” Yuzuru shrugged. “You maybe deal with it worse way and say all wrong thing but I don’t know what right thing would be.”  
  
“You were right, though, I shouldn’t have gotten involved. The last thing I wanted was to make you feel worse-”  
  
Yuzuru hummed. “You make me feel a little worse but I think my feeling maybe would stay same if you do nothing.” He looked over at Javier with a charitable smile. “I know you only want to help.”  
  
Javier screwed up his face guilty. “I was also just really pissed at Denis for pushing your buttons like that.”  
  
“It’s okay. I still did good in short.” Yuzuru wrinkled his nose a little. “I over-reacted.”  
  
Javier reached out to cover where Yuzuru’s hand rested between them. “You couldn’t help it.”  
  
“I should control better,” Yuzuru said a little dismissively.  
  
“Yuzu, It’s not your fault.” Javier rubbed his hand. “How are you feeling now?”  
  
“Better.” Yuzuru nodded with a weak smile. “A little more calm. Tired.”  
  
“I’m glad.” Javier smiled. “You seemed better, at the press conference, but I know you’re good at facing media so I couldn’t be sure.”  
  
Yuzuru laughed a little. “Yeah, I feel happier after short program, so media feels easy. If I did badly, I think it is different.”  
  
Javier laughed with him for a moment, shifting a little closer. Yuzuru felt like he shouldn’t lean on Javier, but it was clear from the way that Javier angled his body towards him that he wanted him to. Yuzuru wouldn’t go to Javier to seek comfort, not anymore, but he wondered if it was so wrong for him to accept it when it was offered.  
He let himself fall towards Javier, let himself be supported by his body, let his head rest on Javier’s shoulder. He was so tired, so mentally worn-out, he needed a little moment of quiet. He needed the closeness, the hand that came to rub circles into his back. Yuzuru knew he couldn’t rely on Javier, shouldn’t, but right now he wanted to take the support he offered. He couldn’t talk about his foot, although the bit of pain he felt during his short program and the light bruising he found on the bottom of his foot played on his mind. He knew the free program would be tough. He knew he’d have to take a break after the competition.  
If he could perform the way he did in the short with all the physical and mental strain he had felt off the ice, he figured he could make it through the free.  
Yuzuru closed his eyes for a moment, relaxing into the warmth of Javier’s body, soaking up the calming sound of Javier’s light and even breaths. He felt every muscle in his body let go of some tension, exhaustion taking over.

“I should say sorry to Denis,” Yuzuru mused, breaking the silence.  
  
“You could, I think he should be apologising to you though,” Javier said, disagreeing with the sentiment.  
  
“I yell at him. You yell too. I should apologise. He was annoying but was not his fault I feel stress,” Yuzuru said placidly, shifting a little closer to take in the soothing scent of Javier’s skin - clean, a hint of his soap, familiar, warm.  
  
“I’m not convinced he wasn’t doing it deliberately,” Javier grumbled. “But I guess it would make you feel better. If it’s put behind you.”  
  
Yuzuru hummed in agreement. “Yes. I hate unfinished thing.”  
  
Javier looked down at him; Yuzuru’s eyes blearily opening for a moment before sliding shut again, his expression soft and relaxed, his cupid’s bow mouth lifted into a tired little smile.

  
“Are you falling asleep?” Javier asked fondly. Yuzuru nodded slowly. Javier chuckled. “Okay, I’ll leave you to rest.”  
  
Yuzuru almost protested but held himself back. He let Javier guide him down to lie on the bed, let Javier tuck him under the covers, and snuggled into the pillows happily. Javier ruffled his hair.  
  
“I’ll turn off the light as I leave, okay?”  
  
“Thank you,” Yuzuru mumbled sleepily.  
He heard the click of the lightswitch and the soft thunk of the door closing as Javier left. Yuzuru let himself be swallowed by the darkness.

  
Pure, absolute, unbridled horror.  
Yuzuru looked down at his feet, eyes still blurry from sleep, mouth hanging open. His left foot was approximately twice the size of his right. A little red. Disgustingly swollen.  
Yuzuru scrambled for his phone, not sure what to do. He called Brian.  
  
“Brian. My foot real bad,” Yuzuru rushed out before Brian could so much get out a hello.  
  
“Oh Jesus, not you too.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Nevermind, “ Brian said flatly. “How bad is real bad?"  
  
“It very big. Monster foot.” Yuzuru was far too horrified at his condition to come up with better English to describe it. Brian seemed to take this a sign of the seriousness of the situation.  
  
“Okay, get Kikuchi to look at it for now. I’ll come and take a look after I’ve dealt with Javi.”

As Yuzuru sat with Kikuchi, foot submerged in ice-water and cooling pads to try to numb the pain and maybe bring down the swelling, he realised to Javier must have hurt himself too.

Yuzuru frowned as he forced his left foot into his boot. The swelling had not gone down. He had the foot strapped tightly, but it was still hard to fit it into his boot. He laced up as tightly as he could, waited a moment, and looked up at the distressed faces of his team. “It’s fine, if it’s numb I can skate on it.”  
  
His sponsor representative groaned as if they wanted to disagree. The alternative was withdrawing, and they didn’t particularly want him to do that either.  
“Are you sure this is what you want to do?”  
  
Yuzuru put on a brave face. “I’ll see what I can do in practice. If I think I can get through the free, I’ll try.”  
  
He ignored the grimaces on everyone’s face.

 

Yuzuru chewed his lip as he waited for the previous practice group to finish. Brian was off to one side, talking lowly to a somewhat distressed Javier. They had already discussed what Yuzuru would do in this session, though Brian urged him not to push himself too hard. He needed to know what was possible for him to do with his foot in its current condition.  
At least there was one small thing he could do, to make himself feel a little better. It had eased his mind, somewhat, to have the argument resolved between himself and Javier. He wanted no lingering animosity between himself and Denis.

“Denis wait,” Yuzuru called out, catching him as he left the ice. “I want to say sorry.”  
  
Denis went from looking apprehensive to bewildered. “For what?”  
  
“For yelling at you. I shouldn't do that.”  
  
Denis smiled a little, notably relaxing. He gestured at his coach to go ahead. “It's okay. We’re all stressed, but I guess you're under the most pressure.”  
  
“I shouldn't take out stress at you.” Yuzuru shrugged.  
  
“I should apologise too.” Dennis looked embarrassed. “I shouldn't have said personal things about you. I got too defensive.”  
  
“Is okay. I know you have hard season.”  
  
Dennis nodded a little sadly. Yuzuru knew what it was like to have a progressive run of injury after injury, but not quite what Dennis had experienced. “Yeah. But that's not your fault.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I wanted to say something earlier, but I was told it was probably best to leave you alone.”  
  
Yuzuru laughed shortly. “Yeah, my mood was really bad.”  
  
“I hope you know that if I was getting in your way, I really wasn't doing it on purpose,” Dennis said emphatically.  
  
Yuzuru grimaced, scratching the back of his head. “I was maybe a little too…”  
  
“I understand why you'd be a little sensitive to it.” Denis held out his hand. “No hard feelings?”  
  
Yuzuru nodded and shook his hand. “We forget about it.”

 

Yuzuru felt a little less on edge. There was one less thing playing on his mind. He could focus.  
It was purely an exercise in seeing what he could get away with. He knew that he wanted to finish the competition, but he also wanted to come somewhere close to what was expected, to win the champion title back without having to rely on the mistakes of other skaters. The run through was somewhat reassuring. He could feel the odd tightness of his swollen foot forced into a skate, the tingling of reduced sensation and the distant throb of pain but it felt manageable. He was careful, practising his toe-loop, but he could get it in the air, get all the rotations and land it. The real pressure was on the salchow - while easier on his foot, it was not his most reliable jump, he needed to get both of them to give himself some leeway if the toe-loop was completed with poor quality. He got them both in practice, though not without some struggle.  
It would be okay. The injury was a problem, but he would be able to get through the last days of the competition.  
Shoma, already dressed in his green costume and looking a little wary, raised a fist in silent cheer. Yuzuru smiled and did the same.  
Javier seemed a little less comfortable. He limited his practice, and Yuzuru saw him frequently look over at Brian for reassurance.

“You go to medic?” Yuzuru asked as practice ended, and they left the ice.  
  
“Yeah. It's my heel,” Javier said a little miserably.  
  
“It's bad? You don't practice.”  
  
Javier shrugged as if to play it cool. “It's painful. I'm pissed I had to waste a practice for it.”  
  
“You don't waste; you feel ice condition. You test foot without pushing,” Yuzuru said gently.  
  
Javier forced a thin smile. “Yeah. I guess.”  
  
“You gonna go to medic now?”  
  
“They’re gonna see what they can do so I can just get to the end of the program.” Javier grimaced. “If I can just get through the free and the gala...it's all done, I can rest afterwards.”  
  
“Yeah. Is almost over.” Yuzuru nodded, wistful.  
  
Javier noted Yuzuru's tone, narrowing his eyes. “Are you okay? You seem to the favouring your right side.”  
  
Yuzuru stiffened. “I'm okay. Just small ache.”  
  
Javier looked a little uncertain. “Do you want to come to medical with me?”  
  
Yuzuru shook his head. Even if his foot wasn't as serious as he feared, it wasn't an injury the medical staff in the rink could really do anything about. They would just recommend he withdraw from the free skate. “No. Is not needed. Don't worry about me”.  
  
“Get a little rest before the free, yeah?” Javier squeezed Yuzuru’s shoulder.  
  
Yuzuru watched him walk towards to medical room, his tentative gait, not putting pressure on his right foot. The odds between them somewhat evened; not that Yuzuru was at all pleased that either of them were injured. He would much rather they faced off with both of them fully fit. He hoped they could both pull through.

 

There were a few things that were not necessarily in Yuzuru’s favour. Aside from his for still being swollen, a fair chunk of his off ice time spent trying to numb it and ease the pain. Painkillers shots directly into the foot, was the only real option, but it wasn't a perfect solution. It dulled the pain, but didn't numb it completely. He had drawn a spot he wasn't really fond of as well, which always seemed like a bit of a jinx. The ice condition was not the best, with a few watery patches and a loose feel under the blade.  
He felt a great deal calmer than he had a few days ago but he was still uneasy.

Hand down on the opening salchow. Fall on the second attempt, no combination. Messy landings in his axel and his lutz. A loss of concentration, the pain in his foot getting to him.  
It was kind of the crowd to cheer as loud as they did when he had performed so poorly. At least he had finished, he had tried. He tried to take some comfort in that. He fought.  
He squished Pooh’s face, forcing himself to smile through the crushing disappointment. The dark stain spread on his mind. His chest felt tight. He had lost to himself. He wasn't able to recreate the best he was capable of.  
184.61. A total of 295.17. It was high, but there was a leaden weight of dread over him. He doubted it would be enough.  
Adam cheered him as Yuzuru entered the back room, but Yuzuru struggled to muster a smile. But he had to. It was expected of him. He had to be gracious about it. But he wasn't feeling good.  
There were more people to come; there was no guarantee he would hold onto his current position. There was no way of knowing how low he would drop. Mikhail gave him a nod of understanding. They watched Boyang in silence.  
  
“You did okay,” Adam told Yuzuru as Boyang’s scores came in. “We can't be perfect all the time.”  
  
Yuzuru forced himself to smile weakly. “I know.”

Boyang smiled at the scattered applause they gave him as he came back. Yuzuru’s eyes were glued to the screen to watch Javier.  
Yuzuru knew he had lost before Javier had even finished. Javier had been perfect. He had done everything he needed to do to win. Yuzuru felt sick. The wave of bitter failure hit him strong.  
It didn't feel like last year. Not quite. Somewhat more numb, disconnected, like he had felt while he had skated the short. But the disappointment was indescribable. He had failed to live up to his own image of himself. He failed to win the championship again. But he couldn't deny that the title belonged to Javier right then, even before the score came in. He wouldn't cry, not this time, not until he was alone.  
Javier beat him in the free skate by more than 30 points. The lead Yuzuru had after the short program was never going to be enough to hold on to gold. Not when Javier skated like that.

He couldn't show it. He couldn't show how much it hurt. He had to bury it deep and hide.  
Yuzuru mimicked the way Javier had bowed to him in Barcelona, Boyang copying with a sweet giggle.

Yuzuru stood up as Javier walked towards him and automatically opened his arms to wrap them around Javier’s neck.  
  
“I'm sorry,” Javier whispered. Yuzuru shook his head.  
  
“No. You do best. Never be sorry.” Yuzuru closed his eyes to fight back the urge to cry. “This gold not mine to take. It belong to you.”  
  
“You can get it,” Javier said, stroking Yuzuru’s back. “You work so hard; you can get it. Just not this year.”  
  
“This year I defend my silver,” Yuzuru mumbled against Javier’s neck. Javier laughed and pulled back, stroking Yuzuru’s shoulders. Yuzuru smiled up at him. He was proud of Javier for performing so well, happy he had fought and done his best. He wanted to focus on that feeling for a while.  
  
Javier held Yuzuru’s hand as they watched Shoma perform, mutually wincing as he fell hard on the ice. Yuzuru’s heart sunk as the screen showed Shoma waiting for his scores, clearly trying very hard and failing at holding back tears. Yuzuru felt a degree of guilt that he had been so high-strung and trapped in his head. He could have been there for Shoma to ease his nerves but instead, he had been flying into rages.

There was some relief in being back at the hotel. Yuzuru lay on the bed and felt the ache of tense muscles finally relaxing.  
Javier had eventually found out about Yuzuru’s injury. After the press conference and photo sessions, there was little point in hiding it anymore. With his boots removed, and the bandaging slackened to stop cutting off circulation, the pain was enough to make Yuzuru limp a little as he walked. Yuzuru had joked to Brian that at least he could take painkillers now the competition was over. It was natural that Javier would want to know why Yuzuru was in pain.  
  
“You skated on a broken foot?” Javier had said in disbelief.  
  
“Not broken. Torn,” Yuzuru corrected. “Maybe. Not sure.”  
  
“Why didn’t you say something?” Javier looked a little grumpy. “I was complaining to you about my bursa while you have a serious injury.”  
  
Yuzuru was dismissive. Javier still had every right to seek comfort for his problem, even if Yuzuru’s predicament was a bit more serious. It came down to choice, and who they were as people. They were fundamentally different in how they wanted to deal with these kinds of issues. Javier was content to let everyone know when he was having a problem - whether that was boot problems or minor injuries - and get whatever help could be offered. Yuzuru wouldn’t say Javier was someone who was happy to fall back on excuses but he didn’t mind people knowing things like that because it lowered their expectations of him a little, so if he did do badly the reason as to why he struggled was clear and understandable. Yuzuru was the opposite. Anything that lowered the audience’s expectations of him would not decrease the pressure on him in any way because that pressure came from within more than anything else. He hated giving anyone a reason to lose any kind of faith in his ability to perform. He preferred to keep issues to himself as much as possible, pretend they didn’t exist as much as possible, and try to skate as if there were no problems in the first place. Yuzuru hated the kind of fuss people tended to make if you make it public knowledge you were having problems.  
Besides, they might be friends, but Javier was still his competition.

“It make no difference.” Yuzuru shrugged. “Nothing you can do.”  
  
“You were so stressed out though.”  
  
Yuzuru was amused by the sorrowful little noises Javier made. “I can’t go running to you every time I stressed.”  
  
“Sure you can,” Javier said. “Why do you think you can’t?”  
  
“I’m not your responsibly,” Yuzuru murmured. “You have Miki, Hima…” People Javier was responsible for, who he really did need to be around for.  
  
Javier clucked softly. “Oh, Yuzu, you’re so silly.” He ruffled Yuzuru’s hair. “I have time for you too.”  
  
Yuzuru appreciated the sentiment, but he left the conversation there. Changed the topic. Moved on. He didn’t want to need Javier. He didn’t want to rely on him.

 

Yuzuru rolled onto his back and looked up at the ceiling. He was full of despair, disappointment, regret but now he was alone he found he didn’t need to cry after all. The worst of that feeling seemingly dissipated. When Yuzuru reached for it, there was only emptiness in its place.  
He sat up at a short, sharp knock on the door and rolled off the bed. He was a little surprised to see Shoma.

“You said I didn’t need to message you,” Shoma said a little flatly.  
  
“You don’t,” Yuzuru opened to door without hesitation, letting Shoma shuffle passed him.  
  
“I didn't want to be alone,” Shoma admitted, a little bashful. “I thought maybe we could be miserable together.”  
  
Yuzuru laughed and nodded. Misery loves company, and Shoma could at least give a nice alternative to watching the free skate over and over while wallowing in melancholy. They sat on Yuzuru’s bed, Shoma automatically placing himself squarely in the middle - legs stretched out, pillow fluffed behind his back, shoulders resting on the headboard. Yuzuru reclined close beside him.  
  
“So,” Yuzuru began lightly. “How are you feeling?”  
  
“Pretty rubbish.” Shoma looked at Yuzuru dolefully. “Seventh place wasn’t where I wanted to be.”  
  
Yuzuru nodded, humming empathetically. He thought back to Shoma’s performance. He had started well, maybe not perfectly but not terribly. And then he fell mid-rotation and ended up splayed facedown on the ice. “Did you hurt yourself in the fall?”  
  
“No, it was humiliating though.” Shoma groaned. “I’m so embarrassed I fell like that.”  
  
“We all fall.”  
  
Shoma sniffed. “I’m embarrassed I cried.”  
  
“Hey, no one thinks bad of you for either of those things.” Yuzuru nudged Shoma lightly with his shoulder.  
  
“I know. I just...wish it hadn’t happened like that,” Shoma sulked.  
  
“I know. You had a great season; it’s a shame you couldn’t end it right.”  
  
“That’s what bothers me,” Shoma said. “I hate that I lost to myself. I want to get better at every competition. I was getting better all year and then messed up.”  
  
Yuzuru understood that all too well. It still surprised him, sometimes, just how similar he and Shoma were, despite all their differences. “You still have challenge cup,” Yuzuru said hopefully. One more chance for revenge.  
  
“Yeah, I guess.” Shoma shifts to face Yuzuru better. “You’re not going?”  
  
Yuzuru shook his head. “Not this year.”  
  
Shoma hesitated a moment. “I’m sorry you couldn’t--I’m sorry the free went badly for you too.” He looked adorably stricken for a moment. Yuzuru wondered if Shoma was capable of telling lies when his face was so honest and expressive.  
  
Shoma blinked cutely, looking at Yuzuru with a curious tilt of his head. “I know you’ve been stressed and stuff...How are you now?”

Yuzuru groaned and let his body sag to the side, his head coming to rest on Shoma’s shoulder. Shoma's back straightened for a moment, a little alarmed, but slowly he put an arm around Yuzuru’s waist. Yuzuru sighed, letting his eyes close.  
  
Shoma allowed Yuzuru to stay like that, his head resting on Shoma’s shoulder, for a while. The arm Shoma had awkwardly put around him stayed there, hand holding just above his hip, thumb stroking slow circles through his t-shirt. Shoma’s other hand came up hesitantly to touch the top of Yuzuru’s head, lightly stroking over, down to the shorter hair at the nape of Yuzuru's neck.  
  
“That’s nice,” Yuzuru said, almost a purr. He could maybe fall asleep if Shoma kept that up.  
  
“When you were upset, before the short program,” Shoma explained a little awkwardly. “I noticed Javi stroked your hair, so I thought maybe it's something you like.”  
  
It was sweet that Shoma had noticed something like that and remembered it, Yuzuru thought, feeling rather fond.  
  
“It helps me calm down,” Yuzuru told him quietly.  
  
“Like this is okay?” Shoma asked, fingers toying with the hair at the back of Yuzuru’s head.  
  
“Yeah. It's good.” Yuzuru hummed. “I’m sorry I’ve been a bit...weird all week.”  
  
“It’s okay. You didn’t yell at _me_ so-”  
  
“I haven’t really talked to you at all,” Yuzuru said sadly.  
  
“It’s fine,” Shoma assured. “I don’t mind being left alone. I’m not exactly good with people.”  
  
Yuzuru chuckled. “You’re better with people than you think.”  
  
Shoma pulled a face. “I don’t think so.”  
  
“I don’t know,” Yuzuru said. “You’re good to me.”  
  
Shoma’s fingers stilled for a moment. “Well. You’re one of the few people I actually care about.”  
  
Yuzuru laughed. “I’m honoured.”

It was surprisingly comfortable to lean on Shoma like this. He felt Shoma’s body relax next to his, fingers alternating between twirling strands, flattening the hair back down, then running through to mess it up again. There was comfort in the repetition. Yuzuru let out a long breath.

“I’m injured,” Yuzuru said finally.  
  
“I figured you might be. I hoped you weren’t.”  
  
Yuzuru took a breath. “It’s a ligament in my foot.”  
  
“How bad is it?” Shoma asked, fingers lightly petting the back of Yuzuru’s head. “Will you need surgery?”  
  
“Maybe. I’m not sure yet. Hopefully not.” The uncertainty had them both silent for a moment. It was a horrible situation to be in.  
Yuzuru broke the silence. “Brian wants me to withdraw from the gala.”  
  
“Why don’t you?”  
  
“It might be my last chance to perform.” Yuzuru's breath caught in his throat. The prospect was too horrible, but it kept running through his mind. “If I do need surgery I can’t skate for six months. I don’t think I could recover for six months off the ice. Not if there’s still a risk of the ligament tearing again.” Yuzuru took a second to collect himself. “I don’t want my last skate to be the free skate where I lost the world championship. If I do the gala, I can make my last skate something special.”  
  
“I get it,” Shoma said softly. “If it’s really that bad then one more performance probably isn’t going to make a difference.” His voice was painfully gentle, understanding. “I’d probably do the same.”  
  
Yuzuru smiled a little to himself. Of course, Shoma would understand the desire to make a performance special. Performance had always been his area of focus.  
  
“You think it’s that bad?” Shoma asked, sounding concerned.  
  
“No. Maybe. I don’t know. I’m scared it might be.”  
  
“I hope it’s not.”  
  
“Me too.” Yuzuru sighed. ”I’m not going to be able to skate for two months even if it's not that bad. Maybe longer. I don’t know if I’ll be back on form in time for next season.”  
  
Shoma shook his head. “You’re going to recover,” he said with utter conviction. “Do everything you can. You can be fit for next year. At the next Worlds, you will skate with no injury, and I’ll skate without crying at the end of it.”  
  
Yuzuru nodded into his shoulder. “Next year we’ll both end the season with smiles.”  
  
“Promise.” Shoma stroked stroking his hair for a moment to stick out his little finger.  
  
Yuzuru linked it with his own and smiled. “Promise.”

Yuzuru closed his eyes again and took a deep breath, his hand slipped over Shoma’s collarbone to curl at the base of his neck. He felt Shoma shudder a little, but he didn't move away. Instead, Shoma let his head fall to the side, cheek resting on Yuzuru’s hair. Yuzuru ran a finger over Shoma’s pulse, feeling it get a little faster.  
Yuzuru wanted to put his arms around Shoma; bury his face in his neck, soak up the warmth of his body and take in all the comfort he offered. He knew if he did Shoma would likely be incredibly uncomfortable. So he didn't.  
This was okay; this was enough.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got my new laptop!  
> I'm gonna be honest I'm not completely happy with this chapter but I had no idea how to fix it.. I don't really know why I'm unhappy with it tbh *shrug*  
> some notes: - i have no idea what the exact details of yuzus injury were i'm just sorta assuming it wasnt hella severe and hes just a dumbass that skates on injuries.  
> \- I forgot which foot javi hurt but i think it was his right foot  
> \- i couldnt find videos of yuzus free at nationals so i have no idea if it was bad other than whats on the protocol.  
> \- I honestly assume the entire ordeal with denis boiled down to yuzu being anxious and denis being a bit careless.
> 
> as always - I love your comments!


	11. Frustration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you just don't get what you want. Sometimes things just fall apart. Sometimes, things you never thought were real will make their presence known.

**Frustration**

Everyone has weaknesses.

Javier sometimes struggled with motivation, his confidence, his focus and keeping himself calm enough to perform to his full ability. Shoma's weakness was his introverted nature, his struggle to connect with other people. In some ways how closed-off he was worked in his favour, as it helped him stay focused. But it also meant he found it hard when he needed support, and couldn't always pull the audience into a performance. Patrick could be stubborn and occasionally lacked tact. Nam could be too hyper, too eager and completely lose sight of what he was doing.

There were a lot of skaters Yuzuru trained with, competed with, watched for years. Some had weaknesses that were easier to spot; others were a little harder to figure out.  
Yuzuru didn’t concern himself too much with the shortcomings of others. He was more focused on himself. But there was a comfort in knowing that everyone had struggles. It was normal. It was just part of life.

Yuzuru was getting to know his weaknesses. One that maybe took him by surprise was also becoming the one he could no longer ignore: communication. He thought his English had improved enough for him to express himself, and it had. The problem was how little he chose to do so.

The most chronic of weaknesses was his body; first with his asthma, now with the damage to his foot that would keep him from the ice for months. It was frustrating that, after so many years of training and conditioning and building his strength, his body was still something he felt held him back. Years of bruises and cuts on legs and arms and hips. Years of aching muscles and gasping for air. Years of training and training and training until everything hurt so much he wanted to cry.

Yuzuru did consider for a moment that perhaps he punished his body a little too much, and didn’t take care of it enough.

Brian had snorted at him. “You know, Yuzu, you might just be right.”

Of course, Yuzuru always did some things to care for his body. It was his tool, his being. If the ice was his canvas, his body was his brush and paint. He knew to take some attention. He had regular massages to work the stiffness from tired muscles; he was always cautious with his stretching, his had regular physiotherapy, the constant care of Kikuchi, and the watchful eye of his mother always making sure he ate enough and was well hydrated. Brian and Tracy tried to teach Yuzuru the importance of proper rest, as well as effective training, but Yuzuru had never been the greatest at really taking the time to rest himself. He was always trying to push harder. He had always been that way.

Yuzuru pushed his glasses up his nose and fought back a yawn. His studies had taken a turn towards anatomy and biological needs for the body. He had taken an interest, researching a little more in depth than was required for the module. It was fun, to learn all the names of all the muscles he used on a daily basis, to find out how they functioned, which tendons connected them to which bones. A good distraction. Some time out of his head. And Yuzuru took the time to consider more carefully how to care for himself, how to get the best out of his body, how to avoid injury.

 

  
Recovery was a process.

Not being on the ice scared Yuzuru. It gave him a lot of time where he had to face himself. Work with his feelings, deal with them instead of just throwing himself around to burn them away. He was afraid of that time spent alone with nothing but his thoughts. He needed that time, though. So he could learn to recognise which thoughts were his, and which were intrusive. 

There was fear in the idea of returning to the ice too. He remembered all too well how hard it had been to get his jumps back after the earthquake, how hard it had been to skate after the accident. If a few weeks of no training could have such huge impacts on his body, his muscle mass, his ability to skate...two months would be a disaster.

“Don’t worry,” Brian said, with a patient smile and a shake of his head. “We’ll work out some off-ice stuff that won’t stress your foot but will keep your fitness up. Your progress from last year won’t go to waste.”

Visualisation. Brian had told Yuzuru years how creating a mental picture of how he wanted to move, what programs should look like from the outside, had helped him while he had competed. Yuzuru practised that frequently, but he refined that exercise while he couldn't train normally. But it was difficult. He wasn't sure it would be enough.

 

Yuzuru had to make changes; he monitored his body composition, careful to ensure he didn't lose a significant amount of muscle over his rehab period. He communicated with the JSF and various sponsors, taking up an offer for a nutritionist to look at ways his diet could be improved, to make sure his body got what it needed to stay strong, recover correctly and become stronger. He had lost weight, the weeks immediately following words. He needed to somehow compensate for that even while the exercise he could do was limited. When he was in condition to start exercising again, his trainer helped him. 

There was also his mental well-being to consider. The stress, the pressure, the dark and cold feeling he had felt at Boston and how badly it had affected in the competition and afterwards played on his mind. The pressure, he knew, would only grow. He needed to improve how he dealt with his stress. He needed to give himself moments of peace. He had to learn how to do that. Tracy helped him a lot in that area. He trusted her. She was easy to talk to. She understood.

When it was time to rest, instead of just gaming or studying, Yuzuru spent more time outside. He took pleasant walks with his mother. Or he sat for hours in a nearby park. Sometimes he took a few books to lazily study on the grass, frequently pausing to watch a squirrel scutter passed him, or a little bird hop up close. He liked to rest with his back against the trees, close his eyes and listen to the rustle of leaves and the whistle of birdsong. He liked to look up at where the trees’ branches reached out to the sky; admiring the bright flashes of sunlight between the leaves, the brilliant green leading to blue, the occasional puff of fluffy white cloud floating by. He liked the scent of the grass, the freshness of the air. It reminded him a little of home - the trees, the comfortable calm that settled over him - but it was different. Yuzuru liked little moments to just be in nature; he liked that even if a city like Toronto it was easy to find somewhere green and quiet.

It was a shame, to not be able to do the summer ice shows like he usually did, to have to wait until August to resume training and prepare for the next season. But it gave him time, to think about what he wanted to try, what he wanted to develop to move forward before the next Olympics. He listened to music endlessly, trying to find a fit for the image he had of where he wanted to be at the end of next season.

It was a little odd to be alone in Toronto while everyone else was busy with ice shows or taking vacations or doing promotional stuff or some combination of the three. Yuzuru knew that once he was back on the ice, he needed to spend some time at home - to fulfil his own obligations to his sponsors and endorsements, to visit his family - but for now, he was firmly in Canada, getting his treatment, waiting.

  
He, at least, had some amusement from various friends on his phone. For a while Shoma was the easiest to keep in touch with as he was in the same kind of time zone, doing some training in America. It was interesting to see how much more relaxed Shoma was with him - in messages at least - than before. It was small shifts, a gradual move away from respectful language, any formality disappearing along with the distance that came with it. Honorifics slowly slipped away, there were little changes to the grammar Shoma used, perhaps some laziness coming into the way he typed, but it made Yuzuru happy. He followed Shoma’s lead, dropping polite forms and opting for more casual language. He liked how much more candid Shoma was with his thoughts. He was warmed by the progress they had made, how much closer they felt.

          > How’s training camp going?

          > _I’m going to die._  
          > _If I stop messaging you it’s because I’m dead._

Yuzuru laughed. Shoma had initially complained about how hard jet lag always seemed to hit him. Then his complaints moved to more specific things; hiking in the sun, the food he had to eat, having to wake up so early, and most recently the strain that the training was having on his body. Yuzuru was not entirely sympathetic, but Shoma insisted he was not lazy - he usually trained hard, Yuzuru knew he did - the training camp was to improve his stamina, his physical condition, and was particularly taxing. The way Shoma talked about it, the coaches leading the camp were hell bent on making every single muscle in Shoma’s body ache.

          >Should I check in on you daily to make sure you’re still alive?

          > _You can._  
          > _I’ll either be in the process of being tortured. Or I’ll be trying to sleep somewhere. Or I’ll be dead._

Yuzuru laughed again. Shoma could be quite dramatic.

          > _Are you back on ice yet?_

It was natural that Shoma would ask. Yuzuru had been grateful for Shoma through his recovery period. He didn't pry, but let Yuzuru vent whenever he grew frustrated at his ban on skating and how slow time seemed to pass.

          > Next week back to training o((*^▽^*))o  
          > I still have to take it easy for a while, so we’re just focusing on choreography I think, but I’m not too worried. Tracy is making me do edge work already.

For once, it was true - he wasn't particularly concerned about returning to the ice. He had talked a lot with Brian, with Tracy. They had his music ready, permissions granted to use the pieces he wanted for his free program. He had let Jeffrey choose this short program music - trusting his judgment after telling him the sort of thing he wanted to challenge. Yuzuru knew what the plan would be when he was able to train again, had understood it and agreed to it. Yuzuru was happy to gradually build back up to his quad jumps and more difficult elements and was okay with holding back on training toe-loops, to reduce the risk of re-injuring his foot. He had considered what changes he would make to his technique to avoid injury but also settled on focusing on other jumps instead.

"So, that's why I need quad loop in layout. " Yuzuru had told Brian very matter-of-factly.

"What?" Brain looked somewhat bemused.

"For four quad in free and two in short I need quad loop," Yuzuru said a little impatiently. "So don't need quad toe in short, and only one in free."

"Why do you need six quads in your programs? Three in the long is fine." Brian argued. "And it might be okay to keep a toe in your short but not use the combination. You don't need to add the loop."

Yuzuru shook his head. "Shoma had quad flip, Boyang has quad, lutz. They will be adding more quad to free --"

"You can outscore them in execution and components. I don't think to add a new jump is necessary when we already said we'd stick to the salchow combination to the second half."

"No," Yuzuru said a little firmly. "I should be ready for Olympics. Will need four quads on more for gold. Need to have loop safe for next season.."

Yuzuru fighting for something he wanted was not entirely new. Brian was all too used to Yuzuru's constant need to upgrade every season in some way or another, but he thought they were done with that when they decided to switch out the quad combination from the toe to the salchow. He hadn't expected Yuzuru to want to add an entirely new jump to avoid reliance on the one that caused his injury.

It wasn't just a wariness of stressing his left foot that had Yuzuru wanting to add the loop. The truth was Yuzuru liked to feel that, when it came to what was needed to win, he was somewhat ahead of the curve. Or at least in step with where the sport was heading. Boyang introducing the quad Lutz to the field changed things. Shoma landing the flip changed things. There would be more young skaters coming up with more quads, more different types of quads that were worth more points. Joining that trend as it developed would be vital to remaining competitive through the next season and heading into the next Olympics. Yuzuru knew that.

It took a few days, but eventually, Brian agreed. The loop had its own difficulties and risks, but it wouldn’t apply stress to the left foot. Yuzuru had already trained the jump a little. It wasn’t like he pulled the idea out of thin air.

 

  
Yuzuru bent down and touched the ice before he stepped onto it, eyes closing as he felt the cold through his gloves. It was exciting to be back at the rink, facing the ice, ready to train. Not just doing rehab but real, regular training. Not just exciting but also a relief. He savoured the first step out as a free man done with rehabilitation. He took a little time to warm up, to reacquaint himself with the ice. Brian and Tracy watched from the side, having warned not to do what he usually did at the start of practice - 'Please, Yuzu, don't go rushing out, racing around, straight into a triple axel. Okay?'

He felt full of energy, but he restrained himself. He was eager to practice, to skate; but it would take some time before he was jumping quads again. There would be a gradual build-up back to this routine, a slow redevelopment of his jumps. For now, it was enough to just stroke around the ice, feel the wind from the little bit of speed he built, and know that he was at least going to start. It was funny to think he once hated practices; he used to hate training; it was boring -all he wanted was to compete and play, he didn't want hours of being yelled at to straighten his free leg, fix his posture or skate on a deeper edge. But he had missed it. Now he liked training; he loved feeling this skills become more refined, to work on improving the jumps he had already and built up to upgrade others with extra rotations or varied arm-positions or new combinations or more difficult transitions and entries.

"It's good to see you back in this group," Javier had said to him, with a bright smile and a put on the back. "I missed you."

Yuzuru wrinkled his nose. "It was so boring to not train."

"Don't get injured again and you won't have that problem. "

Yuzuru stuck out his tongue. "Javi must be careful too. Old people injure more easy."

Javier grabbed at his waist. Yuzuru shrieked with laughter as Javier tickled his sides in retaliation.

It felt like no matter how much time had passed, or how long they went without seeing each other, they always easily right back into their friendship. But that wasn’t true, and Yuzuru knew it, but it had gotten easier. Everything felt back to normal. He could put everything of the past few months behind him.

Yuzuru smiled, as much as he could, as Javier squished his cheeks together.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute,” Javier said, pretending to be grumpy.

Yuzuru relaxed his face, looking like a fish, and crossed his eyes. Javier laughed and let him go.  
Just hearing Javier laugh made Yuzuru feel lighter. 

  
Watching Javier was an element of his practice routine Yuzuru hadn't realised he had missed quite so much. He watched as Javier swung his right leg back, getting a good inside edge, almost sitting a little to engage the muscles at his thighs before he used them with the momentum of his body to launch high into the air, make four rotations and land, free leg extended high behind him. Yuzuru watched the clean running edge Javier held before he transitioned into his choreography. That, Yuzuru thought to himself, was why he had moved to Canada so long ago. Javier's quads that just looked like he was born to do them. Yuzuru's salchow was still a bit of a problem jump. A little unreliable, a bit rebellious. It helped him to watch Javier jump, get that image in his mind, try to recreate it himself.

 

  
Yuzuru left the rink with a smile and a small wave to Brian and Jeffrey. There were still some alterations to be made to his short program, but he was happy with the direction it was heading in. Something a little different for him, something unexpected.

“Hi Yuzu,” A voice called out as, out of his training gear and ready to leave, Yuzuru headed towards the exit. It was a voice he recognised but hadn't expected.

“Oh. Hi Miki.” Yuzuru turned to full her, smiling politely. "I didn’t know you were in Canada.”

“Just for a little while.” Miki smiled, winning her hand a hit as she spoke. She looked pretty, with her hair pulled in a high ponytail, dressed casually but obviously not doing any skating today Not now, anyway. “I saw your practice today. The loop is looking really good.”

“Thanks. It’s getting better," Yuzuru said humbly, lowering his head. It was going well for the new jump, he was very pleased with the progress and was looking forward to Brian admitting Yuzuru was right to push for it.

“I like the look of your short program this year,” Miki told him, her eyes shining with genuine enthusiasm.

Yuzuru laughed as she mimicked one of his poses from the program. He still felt a bit awkward around her, maybe wouldn't go out of his way to be around her, wouldn't choose to hang out with her, but he liked Miki. She was funny and nice and quite obviously trying, hard, to be more friendly. For Javier's sake, maybe. Yuzuru honestly didn't know. Javier rarely mentioned Miki around him and had never even tried to invite Yuzuru to spend any time with the two of them. For all Yuzuru knew she just genuinely wanted to become friendly - as two people with things in common who saw each other fairly regularly. With how much their social circles crossed it wouldn't be strange for her to be maybe a little less like strangers.

Besides, she was a shorter he respected. He was happy to hear his opinions on his programs. Even if they came through a cheery filter of politeness.

“It’s a lot of fun!” Yuzuru grinned. "It's really tiring though."

“It looks it,” she said, nodding. “How’s your foot?”

“I’m still being careful with it, but it’s a lot better.”

“That’s great.”

This had been one of the reasons Yuzuru had not wanted to finish practices with Javier, to avoid things like this happening. But Jeffrey had been booked in the afternoon, so Yuzuru's session to go through choreography had to be brought forward. He could handle some small-talk with Miki, but when he saw Javier coming down the hall, he knew it was time to leave. He would cope with Miki being around - it wasn't the first time he had seen her around training, and it wouldn't be the last- but he didn't have to put up with Miki and Javier together.

“I should be going,” Yuzuru said, trying not to sound hasty. “I have an assignment due tomorrow and about three pages left to write.”

“Good luck!" Miki wrinkled her nose at the mention of school work. "It was nice seeing you. We all missed you at the shows.”

“Hopefully nothing will stop me from going next year.” Yuzuru started to walk away, waving. “Bye.”

 

  
Starting training later than usual did mean that Yuzuru was maybe a little less prepared than usual, but he wasn't terribly nervous. No more than usual, anyway. The short program had a good first outing, the important part - the loop was pulled off well. Just a fall on the combination. But that would come together later in the season. His focus had just been trying to get the new jump landed, to prove that even after losing at words he still had more in him - he wasn't finished. His best wasn't behind him.

"Try to enjoy yourself," Brian urged before the short. "It's a fun program."

He got the loop in the free program too but had problems with other elements. Despite all efforts to minimise the damage two months off the was bound to have, it was clear Yuzuru's stamina still wasn't quite back where it had been, and he had to work before the Grand Prix started to make sure he had the energy to skate his programs right to the very end.

"We knew it would be tough," Brian told him with a shrug "They are challenging programs. You all get them when it matters."

Yuzuru still got the gold he wanted to start the season with. Misha sniggered at him when, on the podium, he lifted the maple-leaf shaped medal to his face, as if he expected it to smell of something. Yuzuru held his flowers on top of Misha's head for the photos.

Yuzuru grinned at the camera, holding the medal up close to his cheek. Misha gave him a thumbs up and handed the phone back.

"Very cute," Misha said, Yuzuru nodded as he assessed the picture, his cheeks still a bit pink from where he had tried to show off after the medal ceremony, only to splat against the ice instead.

"It's good; I will send to Shoma."

“Shoma?” Yuzuru noticed Misha's eyebrow raise a little. "Not Javi?"

"Shoma asked me to say how I do," Yuzuru said with a shrug.

Misha looked at him shiftily. "I guess I just assumed...Javi’s usually the one you're always messaging.”

Yuzuru felt something inside him squirm uncomfortably. It was true, he used to message Javier after competitions, but only if he knew both of their events had ended. He didn’t really message Javier much anymore.

“Javi sees me every day,” Yuzuru shrugged. “I can show him medal when he come back.”

 

  
It took a little time, because of the time difference, but Shoma responded to Yuzuru’s little boast of gold with his own picture. Shoma posed next to the leaderboard, pointing his name in the number one spot with the slightly awkward smile he always had in pictures. His hair was a little curly, his black-and-red costume complimenting his somewhat stocky body well. Even with his smile and the slightly blurry quality of the picture, Yuzuru could see that Shoma’s features were continuing to refine. Yuzuru rolled onto his belly, pillow wedged under his arms. He should sleep, but he had time for Shoma.

          > Oh! Your costume looks pretty! (●♡∀♡)  
          > You look very handsome!

Yuzuru felt bad, he could imagine Shoma looking very embarrassed as he read the compliment. He hastily sent something else, to ease Shoma’s awkwardness.

          > Did you land your flip?

Shoma hadn’t exactly been nervous about it, having already secured himself as the first to land the quad, but there was a certain amount of excitement to including an element no one else was doing to a program.

          > _Yup ^^_  
          > _Did you land your loop?_

          > Yup (*•̀ᴗ•́*)و ̑̑

          > _I wanna see it!_  
          > _So I can steal it from you hahaha_

          > (;¬_¬)  
          > Maybe I’ll steal your flip!

          > _You can’t, your flip sucks :P_

Yuzuru pouted. It had been years since he got an edge call on his flip. There was, however, something satisfying in Shoma teasing him.  
He wondered if it was the same for Javier, when Yuzuru joked with him. Javier obviously liked Yuzuru’s teasing, but how much and why would never be clear. Javier obviously liked being close to Yuzuru, but even now their dynamic was muddied by their history with each other. There was always part of Yuzuru that questioned Javier’s motives or ached in an odd way from time to time.

It was different with Shoma, Yuzuru thought. He had never been particularly shy around Javier. Shoma’s initial discomfort around him made the emerging playfulness feel somewhat special.

He had said this to Keiji at some point over the summer, Keiji had laughed at him.

“Sure, you like it now,” Keiji had said darkly. “Just wait until he’s deciding you look comfy and always sitting on _you_.”

Yuzuru thinks that, really, he wouldn’t mind that at all.

After a series of huge yawns, Yuzuru gave up, said his goodnights, and fell asleep.

Shoma did it again, after his Skate America free program. Yuzuru’s phone chirped, and he looked down at a photograph of Shoma - curly hair falling over his forehead, eyes bright, cheeks still dark pink from exertion - holding his gold medal for Yuzuru to see. It gave Yuzuru a little kick of motivation. He was glad that they could share their successes with each other in a way that didn’t intimidate the other. Yuzuru liked when his rivals did well; it made him all the more determined to do better - he didn’t want to win because someone else did badly, he wanted to win because his best was the best.

Unfortunately, he was not at his best at Skate Canada. Mistakes in the short that cost a quad and a combination, though at least he didn’t break the repetition rule again, a general lack of success with the loop, another popped salchow in combination in the free program. He needed to fix that.

Yuzuru posed with an exaggerated pout as he snapped a picture of himself with his silver medal to send to Shoma. Shoma’s reply was kind, bringing a little smile to Yuzuru’s face through his frustration.

          > _At least you look good with silver too._

 

The problem was not just the mistakes and the silver medal. The responses to his programs from judges and crowd were not exactly as favourable as they could be. The short program was fairly crowd-pleasing, but Yuzuru was yet to convince portions of the crowd that he could own a rock-star persona. There were complaints that the program simply didn’t suit him, that the white costume made his movements difficult to see. It irked Yuzuru a little, but the costume could be changed before NHK, and he knew he could perform the routine in a more convincing way. The complaints made him more determined to do so, to do the character and the choreography justice. He, at least, was getting some praise for his efforts to connect a bit more with the audience.

The response to his free program was most disheartening. Too introspective, too quiet, it seemed cold and closed off to some. It appeared that the judges didn't quite understand to program, and neither did most of the audience. Too nuanced. Not enough impact. In the previous season, there were moments where the crowd could clap with the music, become part of the percussion, add to the atmosphere. There were no such moments in the music piece he used this season. That was part of the challenge or the piece; there were no clear dramatic moments, no big swells or bold moments to lead the viewer along. It was more subtle, more reliant on Yuzuru’s ability to skate to each note and embody the image he wanted to project. He wanted that challenge. He wanted to be forced by the program to grow as a performer and skater. It maybe was that the program needed to be perfect to have its impact but Yuzuru knew he would have to make the audience understand what the program was.

“There's time. We can change to a different free program,” Brian suggested. “It would be difficult, but it might be better than sticking to a program this isn't well received.”

Yuzuru shook his head. “No. If I skate well, people will change their mind.”

Another challenge; change the unfavourable opinion so many seemed to have about the program. They thought the subtlety and delicacy was too quiet, too disengaged, too boring. Yuzuru wanted to prove those people wrong; he wanted to engage them, thrill them.

“You can,” Javier nodded, listening to Yuzuru’s sullen whining that response had even been bad enough to consider changing programs in the first place. “I mean, you're sort of know for drama. So it's maybe a surprise for you to do something, not so... drama.” Javier flourished his hand as if to demonstrate. Yuzuru knew what he meant. “You're a beautiful skater; it's a beautiful program. You'll get it right, and everyone will see how good it is.”

“Maybe it clash too much with short.”

“It's good to have a little clash though,” Javier said with a reassuring smile. “You're not a one note person.”

Yuzuru twinges a little. He knew Javier also had some complaints that his comfort zone for his programs was maybe a bit too narrow.

“I show them at NHK,” Yuzuru said faintly. The shadow of last year hung over him. He had started the season similarly last year and followed his weak skate in Canada with two clean programs in Japan. He thirsted to do the same again, but this time he wouldn’t get injured before words and throw it all away.

“I believe you,” Javier said gently. Yuzuru took a little strength from that.

 

  
What Yuzuru did not need before heading to Japan to compete was a distraction. He didn’t need anything unnecessarily stressful. He did not need some stupid thing that wasted his time and mental energy.

          > _So, I hear you’re getting married._

Kanako had messaged him not soon after Yuzuru had stopped talking to one of his sponsor representatives. He scowled.

          > _Congratulations._  
          > _Though as your original beard I’m insulted that you are replacing me without telling me first._

Yuzuru growled to himself, stabbing at the screen with his thumbs.

          > Shut up.  
          > I’m so pissed off.  
          > I’ve spent hours answering questions from sponsors and JSF.

It was nothing more than one trashy tabloid magazine claiming he had a girlfriend, which was ridiculous enough but they had thrown in the suggestion of marriage for good measure. Somehow the report had blown up all over the internet and on actual news programmes. Yuzuru was furious. Not only was it baseless rumour he now had to waste time refuting ahead of a competition, but it was a violation of the privacy he tried so hard to hold on to.  
He was sick of stupid tabloids with their bitchy opinion pieces and lies. 

It was a harsh reminder that his life didn't belong just to him; but somehow, at some point, it had become the property of the public too. Whether he liked it or not, his image and his life was one for public consumption. He was careful to maintain a certain image, to retain an amount of distance, to keep some semblance of privacy - moving to Canada helped a lot in that respect. But there more always people that wanted more, wanted to see passed any persona he had in front of cameras. Worse, the whole 'scandal' made it all the more clear that he was not a more athlete in the eyes of the media or some of his fans, on some portions of the public. He was being treated like an idol - but he had never agreed to the life of an idol. That had never been what he wanted.

He had heard it before - "You're pretty like an idol." As if it were a compliment.

Yuzuru liked the attention, that was one of the reasons he loved competing - the hundreds, thousands, of eyes on him. But if he had wanted that attention at the cost of having privacy, if he had wanted to have fans adoring him as a pretty face, he would've gone to Johnny's and signed some dumb contract that made him off dating. He didn't want fame; he didn't care about it -it was just something that came along with his dream of being a great skater.

          > _I don't understand people who spread rumours._  
          > _What are you going to do?_

Yuzuru thinned his lips. There wasn't much he could do.

          > I guess I'll just tell the truth.

          > _That might be worse :P_

Yuzuru laughed at his phone, replying to call her an idiot. At least she made him laugh

  
Upon returning to Japan, he was asked about the rumours. He answered simply that they were nothing more than something a bored ex-classmate made up.  
He wasn't asked again.

 

  
He felt good, going out for the short program. In front of his home crowd, in a competition where the previous year he skated two clean programs, he felt motivated to at least capture the feeling of a rock concert his program strived to create. Here, he was the star. Here, he would remind the crowd why he was known, why they came to see him. He would remind them who he was - not an idol, not a model or someone just famous for the sake of filling gossip columns - a figure skater, and Olympic gold medalist, one of the top athletes in the world, one of the best in his sport.

There was some anger there, some pride, but also a purer desire to perform the program well, the way it was meant to be.

He stumbled on the exit of the quad loop, but got the rotations and didn’t fall. He tried not to think too much before entering the combination and was relieved to land it cleanly. The triple axel, always his friend, was perfect. He smirked into the step sequence.

Not perfect, not like last year. No new high scores today, but so close. Just a little bit more.

  
The free program was not perfect either. Too eager to get the second quad salchow, he over thought it and fell, and only managed a double in his axel combination. It was frustrating that after all this time, the salchow still was so temperamental.

But the crowd seemed to understand the program more than previous audiences, and it had been so close to being clean. Just a little bit more. He needed to give just a little bit more.

He bowed to the crowd as they stood to applaud him, thanking them, hoping that he was a step closer to making them believe in both of his routines.

It was a disappointment, but he was pleased, at least, to have scored over 300 in total. And it was a joy to have Keiji beside him on the podium.

  
At least he could answer Shoma’s latest gold medal with a picture of his own. Keiji and Ryuju laughed at him.

“Are you two antagonising each other or what?” Ryuju asked, confused as Yuzuru perched on his hotel bed, holding his medal up to his face, snapping a photo with his free hand. His hair was still damp from his shower, but he didn’t think it mattered.

“I guess,” Yuzuru shrugged. “It’s more like...trying to push each other forwards.”

“Like you do with Javi,” Ryuju said bluntly.

“Yeah, the same sort of thing,” Yuzuru said lightly. “A friendly rivalry thing.”

Keiji oh-so-subtly raised an eyebrow and muttered under his breath. “Hopefully not exactly the same.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing,” Keiji smiled innocently. “I’m glad Shoma’s finally loosened up around you. Maybe he’ll bug me less.”

“Yeah, he bugs you,” Yuzuru deadpanned. “That’s why you’re always dragging him out to sightsee.”

Keiji sniffed dismissively. “Both of you are boring. I bet you won’t go anywhere in France. And Shoma will refuse to eat anything local. And you’ll be sticking really strictly to your diet. You’re both as bad as each other. I should go instead of you.”

Yuzuru brightened. “Oh! I really hope next year you can make it to the final! That would be so awesome!”

Keiji pushed him half-heartedly. Ryuju laughed.

  
There was something off with Javier as the final drew closer. It took a while for Yuzuru to notice. It wasn’t odd for them to both get a little quieter and more focused, before competitions but there was a notable shift in Javier’s mood. His smiles seemed forced, his usual jokes completely disappeared, his aura appearing to become stormier by the day.

By the time they were in France, it was clear that Javier had something going on beyond his regular nerves. He was tense, strangely quiet, withdrawn. He seemed to be trying to appear his usual self, but everything was strained.

Yuzuru knew Javier needed space, so he stayed out of it. If Javier wanted to talk to him, he’d do it in his own time. He hoped the quick worried smiles he sent Javier’s way was enough to let him know Yuzuru wished he would feel better. He suspected, what part of the problem might be, when he had spotted Javier’s phone buried at the bottom of his training bag, firmly switched off. It would remain that way until the competition was over and everyone had left.

In contrast, Shoma seemed as calm and collected as ever. His face ever a neutral mask, as smooth and unbothered as a lake on a sunny day.

“Nervous?” Yuzuru asked him in a hushed voice at the welcoming ceremony.

“Not really.” Shoma shrugged. “You?”

“Always,” Yuzuru whispered back.

Shoma snorted and shot him a little smirk.

  
It struck Yuzuru just how much Shoma had matured since he last saw him in person. It could be missed in pictures, but it couldn’t be missed with Shoma stood in front of him. His eyes flicked towards Shoma as they got ready for practice. He looked distinctly less childish; his body looked stronger, the baby fat had finally started to leave his cheeks to reveal the bone structure that hid beneath. He was still very young looking, but more fitting for his age. Maybe it was the confidence that was growing projecting out - he still looked perpetually lost, but distinctly less afraid and unsure of everything. A lot less like a deer in the headlight and more like he was constantly on the verge of falling asleep, or had just woken up. There was something endearing about that. Yuzuru liked the lazy way he would smile, putting up with Yuzuru’s nervous babbling. He liked the slightly languid way he moved off the ice, the little tilt of his head when he was thinking about something, the slow blink of quiet resignation when Yuzuru felt the urge to fluff his curly hair.

Shoma sat up from where he had been lacing his boots and licked his lips. His lips looked dry, Yuzuru noticed. They always looked dry from the cold air of ice rinks. Shoma caught Yuzuru’s eye and stood, inclining his head to silently ask if he was ready to head out. The other skaters shuffled around, stretching their limbs. Javier was already out in the hallway, still unusually silent. Yuzuru stood and nodded, eyes still lingering on Shoma’s dry lips.

“Hold still a sec,” Yuzuru said, catching Shoma’s chin and gently lifting his face up. Shoma froze, but his big eyes were more curious than shocked. Yuzuru let Shoma’s face go for a moment, just to uncap the lip balm he fished from his pocket but held his jaw again as he carefully ran the balm over Shoma’s lips. Shoma, obediently, stayed completely still, dark eyes looking up at Yuzuru a little amused, a little something else. Shoma pressed his lips together briefly, before letting them part. He held Yuzuru’s gaze, almost looking pouty.

“I have my own lip balm,” Shoma said slowly. “I just forget it a lot.”

Yuzuru snorted softly. “You need to use it more. Your lips always look kinda chapped.”

Shoma shrugged as if it didn’t matter to him, but his eyes were glued to Yuzuru’s mouth as he swiped the balm over his lips. Yuzuru pouted as if blowing a kiss.

“Mine always look pretty, right?”

Shoma rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, you’re very pretty.”

Yuzuru preened, ignoring the slight snark to Shoma’s tone, and they headed out for practice.

 

  
Yuzuru blew out a breath as he stepped on the ice for his short program. He needed to get over 100, to beat Patrick. Not just that, but the previous year played on his mind. He wanted to surpass the past self. His new programs were more complex; he wanted them performed to their potential, to show that he was still improving, that he wasn’t passed his best.

He bent down, tapped the boards, squished Pooh’s head and headed out to his start position. He knew he wouldn't catch the performance he was chasing after the first jump. He didn’t fall, which was good, or step out, or touch-down, or two-foot the landing. So as far as ‘not good’ jumps went, it could have got worse, but he did lose his running edge on the exit. If anything, the mistake made some of the pressure disappear - it wouldn't be a perfect performance, the best Yuzuru could do was try his best and sell the performance.  
He laughed a little as he exited the odd loop landing, and did just that. No more mistakes, just feeling the music, hearing the crowd, putting on his show.

He stuck out his tongue when he finished. Just a little more. He was close, but still not clean. Just a little more.

Brian, at least, seemed happy. He quipped about the loop as he handed Yuzuru his guards.  
Yuzuru laughed. He was not completely satisfied, but he wasn’t exactly devastated.  
106.53. A good score. Enough to take first place with a good enough lead. Not what he wanted, but it seemed a little silly to complain about a season’s best, just because it wasn’t a personal best. Not many skaters set new personal bests every season. Not many set record scores when they did. But Yuzuru was greedy.

 

Javier slumped in his chair at the press conference, eyes downturned, shoulders tense. If he was making any attempt to hide how unhappy he was, he was failing, but any effort was minimal at best. His dark mood radiated from him and hung around him like a cloud. When he spoke, his dissatisfaction was clear in his voice. Under the table, while Patrick answered a question, Yuzuru reached out and touched Javier’s hand where he rested on his thigh. Javier turned his wrist, threading their fingers together. Yuzuru gave his hand a small squeeze. Javier’s eyes lifted for a moment to look at him. He didn't smile, but his expression seemed to lighten just a little. Yuzuru hated seeing Javier like this - not just disappointed by his spirit somewhat battered, his confidence completely absent. Yuzuru’s heart ached. He had no idea how to help, no matter how much he wanted to.

“Your short not that bad,” Yuzuru told him softly on the way to the bus. Javier said nothing. Yuzuru held back a frustrated breath. He had no idea what to say.

“You can do good in free,” Yuzuru attempted again. “I believe in you.”

Javier still said nothing, but some of the tension in his shoulders ebbed away.  
They continued walking to the bus in silence.  


The free program would decide everything. Even if the short hadn't been perfect, Yuzuru felt he had made progress; he had managed to perform better than before. He could be satisfied with that. He wanted the same kind of progress in his free

He didn't deliver what he wanted. Nervous for the third quad at the start of the second half; he made the same mistake again. It was becoming a pattern he did not like at all. The full on the quad salchow, missing the combination. He repeated another mistake from NHK - stepping out on an axel, disguising it as a half loop and popping the triple sallow into a double. Not all of his mistakes were repeats from before: The single lutz miles a new mistake.

Yuzuru's heart sank. He had left the door open for anyone to take the gold. His total score was enough for first place, but his free program was disappointing. Javier could overtake him. Patrick could too. Yuzuru left the kiss and any a little dazed. He would lose three years of being Grand Prix champion and could possibly be pushed to bronze.

Yuzuru watched Javier take to the centre of the ice and start his program, ignoring the urging to go back to speak to the media for a little while. He could talk to them later, now he wanted to see if Javier had managed to get himself together.  
Yuzuru winced as he watched Javier struggle to save his salchow. Apparently, he had not managed to get his head right at all.

It had to be one of the worst performances Yuzuru had seen from Javier in a long time. Not just because of the falls and messy landings, but it was clear his heart wasn't into his performance. The spark of personality and fun was missing. His confidence was gone. He just looked tired and like he wanted it to be over. Yuzuru left the rink-side, but kept an eye on the monitor backstage, rushing out some short comments before standing beside Shoma to watch the performance come to a close.

"He didn't put his practices behind him," Shoma said sympathetically.

"Maybe," Yuzuru said quietly. Javier had been having terrible practices all week. His mind obviously elsewhere. "Or he got nervous when he heard my score was kind of low? He's never won the Grand Prix; I kinda left him the opportunity."

Shoma hummed in acknowledgement; knowing there was no point in refuting how relatively poor Yuzuru's free program performance had been. Javier looked devastated the second his music finished. Yuzuru ached with empathy. He wished he could somehow make everything better, but there was nothing he could do, not right now.

Javier slipped to fourth. Patrick fell to fifth. There was a bitter-sweetness to it all. Yuzuru hated winning just because other people did worse than him, rather than because he was good. But he had won.

Truthfully, France had not been the greatest place for the final. The ice condition had not been particularly great. Some of the organisation had been a bit messy, the athlete’s transportation back to the hotel was sometimes late. Yuzuru could see that the podiums were a little on the small side. He was a bit nervous about jumping up on to his first place position because it didn’t look stable and he was scared that when he did, the whole thing would tip over and he’d go flying and look like a huge moron. He jumped anyway - too happy that he had does enough to win a fourth gold at the final. He might not have gotten the clean skates and perfect performances he had wanted, but he had gotten the result regardless.

He didn’t fall. All was good.

He clapped for the silver medalist. Nathan was only seventeen, only in his first season in the senior division. He certainly made his first Grand Prix series count. Yuzuru was impressed, though not entirely surprised. He saw Junhwan train. Who knew the wealth of talent that was in Juniors, waiting to rise up, ready to challenge him and Javier and Patrick. It was exciting.

“Congratulations,” Yuzuru whispered, shaking Nathan’s hand and giving an awkward pat on the back. He saw Nathan’s eyes shift to the podium. He let the boy use him as leverage to get up onto it, steadying him as the little platform wobbled.

Yuzuru heard the crowd start to laugh and saw, out of the corner of his eye, Shoma awkwardly creeping onto the ice. He turned, caught Shoma’s eye and grinned at him. Shoma smiled in return, filling the little empty space of time before the announcers introduced him. It wasn’t like last year, when Shoma had been a little stunned, his expression blank, not sure what to do. This year he greeted the crowd confidently, with a real smile, not a forced one. Yuzuru watched, feeling proud, clapping loudly. There was something very pleasing that Shoma had given him a little hug but only stiffly shook Nathan’s hand.

“Is your podium wobbly?” Yuzuru asked, after watching Shoma gingerly step up onto it.

“I think it’s okay?” Shoma replied, wiggling for good measure to check it.

“Want to get married again?” Yuzuru asked before the photo session.

“Huh? Like last year?” Shoma asked, tilting his head a little.

“Yeah.” Yuzuru giggled. It had been so funny - Shoma’s flustering with his flowers, not knowing where to put his arm.  
Yuzuru put his hand on his hip, and Shoma, with an amused smile, linked his arm with Yuzuru’s. Yuzuru laughed happily.

It was awkward for the three of them to cram onto the small centre platform, and it wobbled at the added weight, but it seemed alright when Shoma’s arm wrapped tightly around Yuzuru’s waist. The organisation was a bit of a mess, but it was fun.

Yuzuru wondered, briefly, if it would cheer Javier up at all if he were to point out that Spain had been far, far better at organising the finals the previous two years. Maybe he would joke about it when his mood improved a little.

Yuzuru swung his plastic medal and giggled with Shoma about how light they were. It was a shame, Javier didn’t make podium thing time, but Yuzuru was glad he had Shoma beside him.

 

  
Yuzuru had been a little uneasy, but Javier had asked him if he would go to his room so that Javier had someone around. So he went. Javier had opened his door without a word and immediately went back to his bed, to his little nest of pillows he had stacked to he could comfortably sit and be gloomy. Yuzuru sighed fondly, it was almost cute, but he hated seeing Javier so discouraged like this.

Yuzuru sat next to Javier and waited for him to talk, listening quietly as Javier first ranted about the condition of the ice, how he hadn’t been able to adjust to it in practices and got nervous because of it when it came time to perform. Yuzuru agreed the conditions had been bad, but mostly just listened. He wasn’t good at advice, and Javier mostly just needed someone to listen.

Gradually he moved away from excuses. Yuzuru’s heart ached, as Javier admitted he was worried about his skating. That it wasn’t enough.

“What if I’m falling behind?” Javier said softly. His voice was small, vulnerable, afraid.

Yuzuru was completely baffled as to how Javier could lose his confidence so drastically in the space of just a few weeks. It wasn’t the first time he had expressed concern about the direction skating was heading, but he hadn’t quite taken the keen interest Yuzuru had taken in Boyang’s lutz or Shoma’s flip. It wasn’t a coincidence that Nathan had won the free skate and took the silver medal after landing a quad lutz in combination and a quad flip in his free program. The elements were risky, but the reward was twelve or more points in base value alone. Even if you fell, the points were kind of worth it.

But Javier’s worry that he was falling behind seemed illogical, silly, right now.

“Who won Rostelecom again?” Yuzuru asked pointedly.

Javier shifted uncomfortably. “Me.”

“And Bompard? Or whatever it’s called this year.”

Javier sighed. “Trophée de France. And I won. But that’s not the point-”

Yuzuru rolled his eyes a little. “Javi. You are world champion-”

“Only because you were injured and I lucked out,” Javier mumbled sulkily.

Yuzuru frowned and bumped Javier with his shoulder. “You win worlds twice just because lucky? You are Europe champion four years because lucky? You are national champion six years because lucky?”

Javier looked a little embarrassed. “My nationals aren’t like your nationals…”

“Still, you are so lucky! I wish I’m lucky like you,” Yuzuru told him. Javier looked up, finally, at Yuzuru’s somewhat grumpy expression. “You think you can do all these things if you not good at skating? You did better in your GP than me; I just win final. You beat Shoma before. You had one bad competition because your brain not in right place.”

Javier sighed. “I know.”

“Your thinking now is no sense," Yuzuru told him gently.

Javier fidgeted, looking back down at his hands. ”It’s just... Me and Patrick are kind of old now-”

Yuzuru snorted. Javier shot him a disgruntled sideways glance.

“And these younger guys are coming with four or five quads… Patrick hasn’t got on a major podium for a while--”

“He beat me at Skate Canada…” Yuzuru grumbled. He had the two silver medals displayed near his bed in Toronto, so he saw them every day.

Javier nudged him. “You know what I mean.” He looked up at Yuzuru with big, sad puppy eyes. “What if I can’t win big events anymore? I wanted to get a medal at my last Olympics.”

Yuzuru didn’t want to be mean, but it was the single stupidest thing he had maybe ever heard Javier say. He looked at Javier as if he grown a second head, perplexed as to where this insecurity even came from. It would be all the easy to list of Javier’s many achievements last season, but Yuzuru knew all too well that last season was the past, not the present, so felt like it didn’t really count. He changed strategy to something a little more personal

“You know why I move to Canada?”

“You thought Brian was the best coach,” Javier said a little flatly.

Yuzuru shook his head. "No. Because you.” Yuzuru smiled, though he was sure he had said this to Javier before at some point, “I think Brian must be good coach because you have best quad. I wanted to train with you and watch your jump. I see you train every day. You still have best quad out of everyone.”

Yuzuru could see Javier about to argue, and he knew what he would say. In this competition, he hadn’t had the best quads because he fell on them, landed them with two feet, or was otherwise messy. Which was true, but also kind of true of everyone.

Yuzuru cut him off before he could even start. “Shoma can do good jumps now but his free leg always so close to ice and landing is kinda bad, he still needs work. You are better. Nathan has many jump, but program is only jump. You are better. Boyang has pretty quad lutz and very charming this year but components still bad, you are better. Patrick jumps good but falls too much; you are better.” Yuzuru smiled. Javier seemed to blush a little from the praise. “When you skate well you can beat everyone else.”

“Except you.”

Yuzuru really wanted to wallop Javier over the head with a pillow. “You beat me twice, stupid.”

“I mean, if you are clean for two programs and I’m clean for two programs, you win,” Javier said plainly.

Yuzuru hummed, thinking about it for a moment. “Maybe? I don’t know. It be fun to see that happen. We should do that sometime.”

Javier laughed, shifting a little closer. “Did you really move to Canada for me?”

Yuzuru felt his face heat a little. It sounded odd, worded like that. “Yeah. I like watching you jump. I still watch you jump every training and think ‘I hope I can jump like that’”

Javier snorted. “Liar.”

“I’m no liar. Really truth,” Yuzuru said with a pout. “My salchow still not my friend. Every day I think I want to steal yours.”

Javier laughed again, louder and easier than before. Yuzuru felt good like he had managed to help ease at least part of whatever was going on in Javier’s mind.

“Thanks,” Javier said quietly, after a little moment of silence, rolling his head to the side to face Yuzuru. “For making me feel better.”

Yuzuru shrugged, angling his body to face Javier better. “You just need to remember one competition is not end of world.”

“Sorry, I’m so… I just needed to let it out.” Javier wrinkled his nose.

“Is okay. Makes Javi feel happier,” Yuzuru’s smile shrank, from a sunny grin to something smaller but more intimate. “I want you to be happy.”

 

Javier’s eyes turned incredibly fond, looking at Yuzuru with the softest of smiles, so warm it seemed to make his entire face glow. Yuzuru met his gaze, looking up into his light brown eyes. His heart skipped a beat. They were close, a lot closer than they had been in quite some time. They were certainly a lot closer than Yuzuru would usually let himself get to Javier when they were alone.

The room seemed deadly silent, except the quiet puff of air that passed between them as they breathed. Yuzuru felt his lips part slowly. His eyes dropped to Javier’s mouth unconsciously, before raising back up to meet his eyes. They had moved closer, somehow, without Yuzuru noticing. Their faces so close their noses almost touched. He could feel Javier’s breath against his cheek. His eyelids felt heavy, so he let them slide closed.

So close. Too close. Yuzuru’s entire body tingled with excitement and want. So close, too close. Not close enough.

Javier slipped a hand to the back of Yuzuru's neck, and it was like a dam broke inside Yuzuru. He wanted more, a lot more, than just a hand on his neck. He wanted Javier's hands all over him. He wanted to press himself close to Javier's body and feel every inch of him. It had been so long since he had been kissed, touched. His body seemed to ache for it. He wanted to crawl on top of Javier, push him back against the bed and kiss him. Javier's mouth was so close. So close. 

 _Miki_.

That one thought ripped right through Yuzuru’s little fantasy. It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over his head. A sickening feeling that he was doing something fundamentally wrong - that he was betraying Miki - washed over him. He tensed for a split second, right as the hand Javier had lifted Yuzuru’s neck moved to push at his chest, pushing him back. Pushing him away.

“Don't,” Javier whispered, moving himself back, away from Yuzuru’s body. His face turned away.

Yuzuru swallowed hard. The rejection stung, no matter how much he knew it was the right thing and there was no option Javier could respond in any other way. Yuzuru felt his throat tighten. 

“I don't want you to kiss me just because you feel sorry for me,” Javier said, his voice a little rough. Yuzuru wasn’t sure how he felt about that, though his gut reaction was annoyance.

“You shouldn't want me kissing you at all,” Yuzuru said, not as harsh as he wanted, just strained and wounded. He stared at Javier, trying to figure out what he was thinking.

Javier seemed to collapse in on himself for a moment, his eyes squeezing shut, hands running over his hair in obvious distress. “I know. I know.”

Yuzuru drew his knees up to his chest unhappily, body turning away from Javier, though he still looked in Javier’s direction with his chin pressed against his shoulder. He had leant forward to kiss Javier, but Javier was not entirely innocent either. He had started to lean into Yuzuru too, held Yuzuru’s neck, before coming to his senses.

“I don't want you kissing me just because you fight with Miki,” Yuzuru countered. He remembered for a second something Kanako had said. That Javier liked the idea of Yuzuru being around to fall back on. Had she been right?

“I wouldn't do that to you,” Javier said sharply. “I wouldn’t do that to her.”

“I know,” Yuzuru said quietly. “I wouldn’t either.”

Yuzuru could feel tears start to prickle in his eyes. He was ashamed, hurt, dejected.

“This was a mistake,” Javier uttered. Yuzuru wondered what he meant - the almost-kiss? Yuzuru trying to comfort him? Ever getting involved with each other in the first place?

“Nothing happened. It doesn’t matter,” Yuzuru said flatly, feeling hollow.

“Isn’t it bad enough if I want to?” Javier’s voice cracked a little. His shoulders sagged with guilt.

“You stop me. That matters.”

“I-I have someone. I shouldn’t be thinking about you the way that I do.” Javier’s eyes raised to meet Yuzuru’s. Yuzuru felt like the wind had been knocked out if him. It was one thing for Javier to give indications, in his behaviour, that he saw Yuzuru as something other than a friend. It was a different thing entirely for him to say out loud that he thought about Yuzuru in a way that went against his relationship with Miki.

Yuzuru hugged his legs closer to his chest. “Don’t say things like that if you regret later.” Yuzuru’s brow furrowed to stop any tears from falling. His voice came out thin and weak. “You might fight with Miki, but you'll make up. I’m just friend like always.”

“Is that what you want?” Javier asked quietly, his eyes searching Yuzuru’s face.

Yuzuru turned away. “What I want doesn't matter.”

Yuzuru bit his lip, trying to hold himself back, but a bitter tear spilled over and slowly ran down his cheek.

“Yuzu…” Javier closed the distance between them, reaching out to wipe away the tear. Yuzuru stopped him, holding his hand for a moment before pushing it away.

“Don’t,” Yuzuru said, throat feeling dry. “Sometimes you touch me it’s okay, but sometimes you make it so hard for me. You make me want things I shouldn’t want. Feel thing I shouldn’t feel.”

Javier paused, the air around them seemed to become very still. Yuzuru swore Javier stopped breathing.

“Feel what?” He breathed out.

Yuzuru shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yuzu, just-”

“No.” Yuzuru looked up at Javier. “l don't want to make things more hard.”

Javier’s eyes seem to flicker as if trying to read Yuzuru’s expression. He hesitates, body shifting as if unsure to move closer or further away. “Do you do you want to be with me?”

Yuzuru doesn’t know how to answer that. He wasn’t sure if that was really what he wanted. He didn’t want to seem like he was asking Javier to leave Miki. He also didn’t want the stab of rejection if he said something and nothing happened - if Javier and Miki stayed together. He had been doing well, healing from his broken heart and holding onto their friendship. Yuzuru didn’t need his heart to be broken again. He still felt something for Javier, clearly. But he didn’t know if it was enough, to complicate the life Javier had with Miki. And to say it, when Javier was vulnerable, and he was arguing with Miki, would be manipulative. Yuzuru didn’t want Javier to do something he would regret.

Javier reaches out to touch him again, Yuzuru flinched and pulled away.  
“It’s good we stop, and nothing happen. If something happen, you never forgive yourself. You break up with Miki. I know you don't want that.”

Javier snorted, frustrated and bitter. “I'm glad you know what I want.”

“Javi,” Yuzuru frowned, his tone warning.

Javier covered his face with his hand. “Me and Miki, we’re--”

“I don't want to hear,” Yuzuru said tensely. “I don't want you to tell me about you and Miki.”

“I know.” Javier sighed, expression darkening. “That's why I never talk about her to you.”

“Don't start now. Even if you fight, I don't want to know. If you get marry, if you break up you can say. Anything else I don’t want to know.”

Javier’s eyes closed for a moment, his expression was pained. “We might be breaking up.”

“You might not,” Yuzuru said wryly. “You have other friend to talk to about this. Don’t talk to me.”

Javier remained silent, his hand gripping tightly onto the bedcovers. He watched, unhappiness radiating from every inch of him, as Yuzuru stood up.

“I’m sorry you have hard time,” Yuzuru said, emotionless, before turning to leave.

He had stopped before he reached to door, turning back. Javier hadn’t moved, but seemed more tense than ever.

“Please remember nice things I say,” Yuzuru said gently. “ I hope you feel better.”

He left Javier, sat on the bed with his head in his hands. His heart twisted painfully. As he let the door click shut behind him, he could have sworn he heard Javier's breath catch. Like he was crying.

 

  
Yuzuru closed his eyes, tipping his head back under the warm spray on his shower. He thought back to the moment in Javier’s room the night before. His lips parted as he blew out a long breath, steam swirling around him. He thought about what almost happened, how it could have gone if he hadn’t hesitated and Javier hadn’t pushed him away. Would Javier had kissed him back? He had said as much: that he had wanted to.  
Yuzuru could picture it clearly: their lips coming together, tasting Javier mouth again, touching him. He could imagine crawling onto Javier’s lap, knees either side of Javier’s hips, letting himself give in to every little desire he had stored up and pushed down since the last time they touched. Would they have held back, once they crossed that line? Probably not.

Yuzuru lowered his head, feeling the water beat against the back of his neck, feeling in run over his shoulders and down his chest. He could almost feel Javier’s hands running over him. He shuddered, shaking the thought away. Even just thinking about it made a curl of shame swell in the pit of his stomach. He felt disgusting. Where was the exact line? When did it become infidelity and betrayal? A kiss definitely was beyond it. They had gotten close, but they hadn’t crossed it. Had they?

Yuzuru felt sick. They hadn’t. They stopped. They didn’t kiss. Javier told him no. That mattered.

Yuzuru leant to the side and pressed his face against the tiled wall, feeling the spray of water meet his hip. He missed being touched, being kissed, being wanted. Javier had someone else to get those things from. He didn’t need Yuzuru.

And Yuzuru shouldn’t need him either. Shouldn’t want him.

He wasn’t even sure if he truly did anymore. Or if going back to Javier, having feelings for him, wanting to touch him, was just a bad habit he hadn’t broken yet.

Yuzuru straightened himself, turning to face the water, pushing the hair from his face.

For a moment he thought of someone else’s lips. Fuller lips. A little dry, a little cracked. Eyes so dark they were almost black.

Yuzuru shut off the water.

 

  
It started as a tickle at the back of his throat and a headache. The next day his nose felt like someone had shoved cork in it, making it hard to breathe. Any ache in his muscles was easily missed because that was so common it barely registered to him as being a problem, but the lethargy was too much to ignore, and the fever hit before the day was through.

Yuzuru shuddered in the doctor’s office under three sweaters and a thick jacket, sweat running down his neck.

The flu. Yuzuru sulked the entire way home, and continued to sulk as his mother ordered him to rest. It was too close to nationals. A week of antivirals and two weeks rest meant there was no way he would be fit for Nationals.

  
He threw himself onto his bed and miserably clung onto one of his plush toys. Something about being sick made him feel like a little kid, and he wanted to indulge that for a little while since his body was feeling weak and all-around terrible. He tucked the squishy, round head of the Pooh bear under his chin. His mother sat on the edge of his bed, looking down at him as if to say ‘well?’.

“I have to withdraw from Nationals,” Yuzuru told her, know she wanted him to be the one to say it. He was an adult, not a child, she couldn’t force him, but he also needed to take responsibility for himself.

“I’ll email the JSF and call Brian and let him know.”

“But I want to compete,” Yuzuru whined nasally.

“No.” Yuzuru’s mother looked at him with an expression he knew from childhood meant there was no use in arguing.

“I might feel okay in a few days, and I need to defend my title.” Yuzuru pouted. He also, since childhood, always tried to argue despite the futility of it all. He wasn’t sure why he was arguing, he knew the facts; there would be no real point of forcing himself to compete after a bout of illness. Unless he wanted to fall face-first into the ice and break his nose - which he distinctly did not. He liked his nose as it was.

“No.”

“But-” Yuzuru started, petulantly arguing for the sake of it, even though his heart wasn’t in it.

“No.” Yuzuru’s mother sighed, rolling her eyes a little. “They are already going to give you spots for the four continents and worlds. You’re not going to lose anything.”

“But I won’t be Japan champion anymore,” Yuzuru said sadly. He sounded childish to even his own ears. He squashed the Pooh bear against his chest for effect. His mother closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her patience to deal with her twenty-two-year-old son who, apparently, was temporarily regressed into a six-year-old. If she ever thought she missed how Yuzuru was when he was small, she took it back. He was a total pain as a child.

“You can win it back next year.” She patted his arm lightly, her voice schooled into her best warm and motherly tone. “You’re not skating sick. I thought you wanted to avoid injuries this year?”

Yuzuru sulked. “I do.”

“If you skate sick you’ll almost definitely get injured.”

“I know,” Yuzuru agreed reluctantly with a surly pout.

“It’s more important to be healthy when you go to Korea, right?” She said patiently. Yuzuru nodded sulkily. She patted him once more before standing up.

“I’ll let them know you’ve decided to withdraw.”

Yuzuru pulled his bed covers over his head and bundled himself into a cocoon of misery until he got hungry.

  
Yuzuru, of course, did his best to watch Nationals, if he couldn’t be there. He watched Shoma carefully during the free skate. He had some mistakes in the short, but had managed to secure second place. It was hard to watch, knowing Yuzuru should be there, wanting all of his friends to do well. He was happy for Takahito, who was leading. He was happy for Keiji, who would make podium somewhere. He was happy for Ryuju, who would likely finish fourth unless Shoma bombed.

He didn’t bomb. Yuzuru was glad to at least be at liberty to watch his friends skate away from a competition setting for once. He shifted to sit more comfortably in front of his laptop and adjusted his glasses. Shoma was improving his interpretation of his free program every time he performed it. The dramatic movements getting a little sharper, It hadn't been without flaws, but other than missing a combination he hadn't made any real major mistakes. Almost clean.

Yuzuru whined with empathy when the program ended and Shoma, overwhelmed, burst into tears. He wasn’t sure exactly why, and was unlikely to ask, but he could imagine a few reasons. The realisation he just became the National Champion, or the disappointment of being so close to a clean skate but one missed jump meaning he broke the repetition rule or the pressure of it all. With Yuzuru not there, he knew Shoma would have borne the weight of his absence. All eyes would be on Shoma; all expectations would be on him. Yuzuru was used to that kind of pressure, Shoma was distinctly less-so. Yuzuru thought Shoma had handled to pressure well. Even if he had cried.

It was a strange feeling, of pride and happiness mixing with sadness and regret. Shoma deserved it, but Yuzuru wasn’t happy that he had withdrawn and missed out - even if it had been the right decision.

          > Congratulations, National champion!

Yuzuru sent the message, knowing Shoma would reply after an hour or two when he actually had time to see it.

          > _Thanks._  
          > _But it feels like it doesn’t count. Since you’re not here._

          >Of course it counts.  
          > Show me your medal~

It took a while, but Shoma eventually kept with the little tradition they built through the first events of the season. He looked tired and damp, in a bathrobe, possibly fresh from a shower. Yuzuru felt strange looking at the picture.

          > You earned it (ノ・∀・)ノ

          > _I hope you feel better soon_  
          > _I missed you._

Yuzuru stared at the screen for a moment, his breath catching oddly. He hadn’t expected Shoma to be sweet. Not at this moment. He had expected Shoma to be celebrating, maybe a little boastful, proud. Not like this.

          > I miss you too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're wondering what Javier's mental thought process is this chapter, it's this: AAAAAAHHHHHAJSGYHDSD WHAT AM I DOING?????????????? probably.
> 
> This chapter did indeed deviate from my original plan but.....what can you do.  
> Leave me comments! even if you think I don't want to read an essay (I totally do) or you can only type a single word!
> 
> I was going to add a note about particular detail early in the chapter that I over thought, and i was going to put it in the comments because i wrote an essay about it but it's a bit much for comments too so... i dunno try to guess what that is and i might share my thoughts on it cuz it frustrated the hell out of me.


	12. Courage

**Courage**

It took a while for Yuzuru to feel better. There was no doubt at all that withdrawing from Nationals wasn’t just the right decision, but the only option he had. At the peak of his illness, he could barely sit up straight - his energy so low and sense of balance so off that he felt dizzy and weak whenever he forced himself upright. There would have been no way he could have ever competed in that condition.

He knew he had to prioritise his health. Yuzuru recognised his growth in that respect. Too many times he had pushed himself through an injury or illness. He learned his lesson. There was a bigger picture.  
There was a shift in focus when it came to his dreams and what he wanted to achieve. Yes, he hated to lose and wanted to get as many gold medals as possible, but it wasn't enough to just win. He was rarely satisfied with just winning; his desire for more had grown. He wanted perfection. He wanted to always leave the ice feeling he did everything he possibly could at that moment to perform the program at its potential. He wanted to exceed that potential whenever possible.

That idea was rapidly becoming more and more important. It was clear that the sport was racing forwards and Yuzuru was not necessarily the front runner anymore. The requirements to win were going to be more and more physically demanding. There was no room for unnecessary recklessness. Yuzuru agreed to hold off going back to training until he was fully recovered, and would honestly not rush himself. No matter how eager he felt. He knew there would be no chance of achieving everything he wanted unless he was as fit and healthy as possible.

So, for a few more days at least, Yuzuru was at leisure to wake up late and spend his time idly playing video games and taking a somewhat more relaxed pace with his university work. He yawned as he went to check his emails, not in any rush to do anything.

He hadn’t expected anyone to start skyping him, but the jingle rang out anyway. Javier.

Yuzuru’s finger hovered over his laptop, ready to click but not sure if he wanted to. It had been some time since Javier last skyped him from Europe. They used to do it quite frequently, keeping in touch in one way or another while Yuzuru was in Japan and Javier was elsewhere. It had stopped gradually, as Yuzuru began to feel it was somehow inappropriate.  
Not that they were in the habit of doing anything illicit in their messages and video calls. It was just difficult to detangle the way they once, so frequently, reached out to each other from the way Yuzuru’s feelings for Javier grew. It was hard to separate how they once connected with each other from the way their relationship transitioned into something beyond friendship. It seemed inappropriate to continue that in any way. Yuzuru slowly felt like he wasn’t entitled to Javier’s time the way he once was and, similarly, that Javier should not be giving Yuzuru as much time and attention as he once did. Any habit they had of keeping in touch during the season gradually faded away.  
Yuzuru felt a twang of sadness realising that. No matter how much either of them wanted to retain their friendship, the closeness they once had was lost. Their friendship deteriorated. Distance grew between them. Yuzuru hadn’t wanted that; he still valued Javier. The feeling of distance hurt just as much as the moments of closeness could. Maybe even more.

Yuzuru hesitated for a moment before accepting the call and turning on his webcam. His screen flickered for a moment, and then he was greeted by a grainy image of Javier’s face breaking into a smile. His hair looked a little damp, his skin slightly flushed, as if he just recently got out of the shower. Yuzuru knew he probably did some training in the morning. It gave him a little kick of motivation, wanting to get back to his own training as soon as possible.

Yuzuru gave a floppy wave to the screen.

“Hey! Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Javier asked. He sounded happier than the last time they had spoken, but it was hard to know with Javier. He could be good at putting on a front right up to the moment he completely fell apart.

“Huh?” Yuzuru glanced at the clock on his screen. “It’s ten in the morning here.”

Javier blinked, confused. “You’re not in Japan?”

Yuzuru shook his head. “No. I train with Tracy until Four Continents.”

“Oh,” Javier said flatly, his brows still furrowed in mild confusion. His eyes seemed to sweep over Yuzuru’s image.  “Did you only just wake up? You look kinda sleepy.”

“A little while ago.” Yuzuru grinned, halfheartedly trying to flatten his hair, which was still sticking up in odd angles. “Mom is making me breakfast.”

“You’re so spoiled.” Even through the slightly bad audio and the grainy video, Yuzuru could hear the fondness in his voice, see the softness in his eyes. Yuzuru stuck out his tongue. He knew that Javier would have been fussed over by his mother while he was home.

“Why you call me?”

Javier pouted a little. “You don’t want to talk to me?”

Yuzuru rolled his eyes and pulled a silly face to show how truly stupid he thought that question was. Javier laughed warmly.

“I just wanted to wish you a happy new year.”

Yuzuru grinned at that. “Happy new year!”

Javier replied with something in Spanish Yuzuru didn’t understand. It was nice to hear Javier speak Spanish - it was nice hearing his real voice for once - something Yuzuru didn’t often get to hear.  
He liked hearing the natural cadence to Javier’s voice, his diction, the ease that was often missing when he spoke English. Yuzuru assumed it was some greeting for the new year Javier hadn’t used at him before; which was odd because Javier frequently enjoyed trying to get Yuzuru to repeat some Spanish word or phrase for his amusement. He found Yuzuru’s accent endearing, much like how Yuzuru was charmed whenever Javier fumbled through some attempt at Japanese.

Yuzuru tilted his head curiously. “What that mean?”

“I hope your dreams come true,” Javier said, voice warm even through the slight tinny quality of laptop speakers.  
Yuzuru felt a little twinge at that, but not an unpleasant one. It was more like a soft kick of assurance; even if they weren’t as close as they once were, they still wanted the best for each other. Any distance that was there hadn’t soured their relationship. The incident in France hadn’t made them too awkward to express any good will towards each other.

“Sounds pretty in Spanish,” Yuzuru said softly. “Hope Javi’s dream come true too.”

“Are you okay?” Javier’s eyes seemed to sweep across the screen again. “You sound a bit wheezy-”

“Calm down, mom,” Yuzuru joked. “I nearly better. I don’t train until Friday.”

“At least you’ve got a few weeks,” Javier shrugged. A few weeks to get back on form before the competition in Korea. “Don’t push too hard, yeah?”

Yuzuru rolled his eyes. Javier could be so fussy. “Okay, mom.”

“I heard Shoma won at Nationals.” Javier shifted in his seat awkwardly. “I’m sorry.”

Yuzuru shrugged, “I’m proud of him.”

“But you’ll beat him at 4CC, right?”

“Yeah, of course.” Yuzuru grinned, wrinkling his nose.  
He liked the cheeky glint to Javier’s eyes, the boost to his motivation and confidence. He knew Javier believed Yuzuru could beat Shoma and win the next event. Yuzuru liked feeling that faith his team mate, his friend, his rival had in him.

“When are you heading out?” Javier asked, voice casual, leaning forwards in his chair. He looked handsome, although a little tired. Yuzuru could see shadows under his eyes.

“Early…” Yuzuru blanked for a moment, forgetting the name of the month. “Not this month next month.”

“ _Febrero_.”

Yuzuru huffed. “You should tell me _English_ , not Spanish!”

“Whatever, it’s almost the same.” Javier shrugged. “I won’t see you until afterwards then.”

“Why does it matter?”

Javier’s brow furrowed a little. “I...We need to talk.”

Yuzuru’s energy dropped a little; his voice became flat. “We talking now.”

Javier sighed, his expression shifting to something warier. “Yuzu, you know what I mean.”

Yuzuru did know what he meant. Or at least he thought he did.  
For a split second, Yuzuru was transported back to France, sat on the hotel bed, leaning forward to kiss Javier only for them to pull away at the last moment. They had come so close, not just to kissing but also in addressing issues they have avoided for too long. Yuzuru was starting to accept that it was a conversation they needed to have - to admit the feelings he had for Javier, ask the questions he still had, sort through all the little misunderstandings they had and gain some clarity between the two of them on how it had all gone wrong.  
Javier needed to know that he had hurt Yuzuru, and Yuzuru wanted to know what Javier’s actual intentions had been. Perhaps clearing that up would allow them both to let go and move on, maybe it would save their friendship. The only thing that held Yuzuru back was the fear it would not bring closure, but rather open everything up again. He was afraid that rather than making everything clearer he would become more confused. He was unsure of how he felt about Javier now, and how Javier might feel about him. It was something they needed, a discussion that was absolutely necessary for them to have in the wake of what had happened in France, but Yuzuru doubted it would make anything less complicated.

“Not now, Javi.” Yuzuru shook his head. It wasn’t the time for that conversation. Maybe the distance between them and the fact they wouldn’t see each other for a little over a month would serve as a suitable buffer for that conversation, but it seemed less than ideal. Yuzuru suspected that whatever was said would leave both of them with a heavy emotional burden. He didn’t need that right now. Yuzuru had been enjoying the ease of a friendly conversation. He didn’t want that spoilt. “Timing is wrong. You should be with family now.”

“Not now,” Javier agreed somewhat reluctantly. “But when we are both back in Toronto-”

“Maybe.” Yuzuru shifted his gaze away from the screen for a moment. “You have European soon.”

“Yeah, soon.”

Yuzuru looked back towards his camera. The taboo topic already somewhat broken, Yuzuru figured it was okay to reference the last time they spoke to each other. “You remember nice things I tell you, right?”

Javier’s smile returned. He rested his chin in his hand. “I remember.”

“Is your brain in your head?”

Javier laughed. “Yeah, it’s there.”

“Keep it there.” Yuzuru raised his fist in encouragement. “Good luck at Europeans.”

“Good luck to you too,” Javier said, copying the gesture. “Let me know what Korea is like, okay?”

“I will,” Yuzuru promised. The Olympic test event was an opportunity to get a look at the venue, see what the facilities were like, and keep that in mind for the next season. When they had a test event in Sochi, Yuzuru had noted down a lot of details he kept in mind for his training through the year up to the Olympic Games. Everything down to the amount of echo so he could add it to his music and train to a version that sounded close to what it would sound like when the Olympics came. Javier wasn’t quite as detail orientated as Yuzuru when it came to things like that, but Yuzuru knew he’d appreciate any information he would share. And Yuzuru felt no need to withhold anything.  

“You should go back to family.”

“Okay,” Javier said with a little nod. “Hope you feel better. Eat a lot, yeah?”

“You so fussy, I’m fine.” Yuzuru rolled his eyes.

Sometimes Javier’s penchant for fussing over Yuzuru, wanting to look after him, was annoying. It could feel a touch overbearing, unnecessary, coddling. But there was comfort in knowing Javier cared about him - even if the way he expressed it could be irritating. Even if it was sometimes clumsy and made things worse, that he cared so much was touching. They said their goodbyes, and Yuzuru sat for a moment blankly staring at his now empty computer screen. It had been a relatively short conversation; a pleasant, easy one, but what had happened at the final hung over them. It maybe wasn’t as destructive as it could have been, but there was no running away from the fact that they got too close, that Javier had suggested he felt something for Yuzuru, that Yuzuru had suggested he wanted Javier and Javier seemed to want him too. Whatever had been bubbling under the surface was apparently reaching a point where they could no longer just ignore it and pretend they were friends.

  
Training again felt good. Yuzuru bent down and touched the ice, feeling the cold at his fingertips, with a content smile. He felt good; the last traces of sickness had faded, he had resumed his off ice training a few days before returning to the ice. It was a relief, to have a good few weeks ahead before he had to fly out to compete. There were a few things he wanted to make sure he was ready for before he left for Korea. He was acutely aware of the hype building around the young American skater following his performance at his national competition where he landed five quads in his free skate. He didn’t doubt that Shoma and Boyang would be keen to rise to the challenge that feat presented.

“I don’t think we need to start attempting five quads quite yet,” Brian told him. “Even with seven quads across his program, he was a fair way off your highest scores with a three quad free.”

It was true. Yuzuru knew it. Maybe a year or two ago he would have been resolute that he had to match that kind of layout, but now he knew better. Rushing into that sort of arrangement without first conditioning his body to handle that strain was asking for injury. He was not quite at the point yet where increasing his technical in that kind of way was vital to winning - but there was a bigger picture. The demand would grow, Yuzuru wanted another Olympic gold, he knew he was likely to need a fifth quad in his free program next season to have a solid shot. For now, it would be enough to land his current layout as planned. He focused a lot of his attention of the salchow combination he had failed so consistently in competition - he needed to break the negative streak he had in that program. He practised potential backup combinations and layouts, hoping that knowing he had contingencies for if that jump went wrong would take some of the pressure off when it came to competition.  

“I think I should practice lutz,” Yuzuru told Brian. “Not for adding now but it should be ready as option.”

Brian nodded, understanding, “We can spare some time for that.”

This was another area of growth between the two of them. At one point, Brian would have argued with him, maybe put his foot down and stressed that such things were not important. It frustrated Yuzuru that so often Brian wanted to downplay the importance of jumps in a program and reduce the time spent training them in favour of something else. They had discussed this, after the world championships in Boston and again after Autumn Classic when Yuzuru’s frustration was hitting a peak. Brian had been concerned that Yuzuru wanted to find a new coach, but Yuzuru hadn’t considered that at the time or thought it was that serious of an issue. He thought Brian was right for him as a coach but sometimes he didn’t understand how Yuzuru thought. Communication had been a problem. The discussion had been what they needed. Yuzuru knew and appreciated the importance of training all aspects of his skating, but jumps were the riskiest part of a program and when the jump failed it could be the thing that left to program incomplete. With the amount of attention Yuzuru put into the entries and exits of his jumps being as flowing and seamless to the choreography as possible, he needed to give more time to those elements in practice. A single jump failing was an ugly dark spot on any program, no matter how much he put into the performance and steps and transitions. A failed jump tore the entire program down.

Yuzuru was happy that the steady stream of contact between him and his friends had not let up much. He had been sad to skip Nationals at least partially because of the missed opportunity to be around the friends he didn’t see often. He had friends in his Toronto rink, but it was something of a treat to be around the people he had been skating with since he was a child. He always smiled when his phone buzzed with a little message from Ryuju or Keiji, Kanako or Shoma. There was always a little extra kick of pleasure at getting messages from Shoma. Even though they had known each other for years, their friendship felt somewhat new. Their closeness was still developing, Shoma was still in the process of opening up to him. Every little scrap of contact felt somehow special.

> _We’re on the same continent again!_

Yuzuru blinked at the message from Shoma, a little confused. He took it as a good excuse to take a short break from his studying and took his phone with him to temporarily flop onto his bed away from his desk.

> What? ɾ⚈▿⚈ɹ  
> Where are you?

> _I dunno somewhere in America._

Yuzuru rolled his eyes. It was typical of Shoma not to be particularly interested or pay attention the specifics of where he was. He sat up, reclining against his pillows comfortably.

> (;¬_¬) Sho. Really.  
> Why are you in America?

> _Changing my exhibition_

Yuzuru's interested piqued.

> Oh? Who’s choreographing?

> _David Wilson?_

Yuzuru pouted. David was often around the rink in Toronto, often to work with Javier or Junhwan. He was disappointed that Shoma wasn’t spending time in Canada to work with him.

> (ಠ⌣ಠ)  
> Why didn’t you come to Toronto??  
> We could’ve hung out (´•ω•̥`)

Yuzuru remembered what they had said to each other after Nationals when Shoma had returned to Nagano and regained access to his phone. He really did miss Shoma. He regretted not being able to sprawl out on hotel beds playing video games together, not being able to stand on the podium together or mess around at gala practice together. February felt both close and too far away. He liked competing with Shoma, but he would really like to be around him outside of competition.

> _Aren’t you sick though_?

> I’m better!  
> Sho, how long do you think flu last for?

> _I dunno_  
> _Glad you’re better, anyway_  
> _Maybe I’ll visit Canada some other time._

> I look forward to seeing your new exhibition~ Σ(*ﾉ´>ω<｡`)ﾉ

Yuzuru watched as the window showed Shoma typing a reply for an oddly long time, as if he were writing a lot, or typing and repeatedly deleting to rewrite. It had been a while since Shoma had been like that in their little chats; he didn’t seem to overthink what he said to Yuzuru quite so much anymore. It made Yuzuru curious as to what Shoma wanted to say.

> _I’m looking forward to seeing you too._

Yuzuru put the phone down on his mattress, sliding so he was more lay than sat, and rolled onto his stomach to press his face into his pillows for a moment. His cheeks ached faintly from smiling. He wondered what shade of pink Shoma’s face was, or if he had turned completely red, if he was also pressing his face into a pillow somewhere. Of all the things he could have written in response, he had chosen to say that. There were a lot of things he could mean by it, Yuzuru didn’t really care. Even the most platonic of meanings made him happy. It wasn’t long ago Shoma seemed to find Yuzuru’s mere presence mildly mortifying. They had come a long way.

Yuzuru lifted his face and picked up his phone again, feeling giggly as he glanced over the message one more time.

> 5 weeks!  
> You know where you’re going, right?

Shoma’s response was a somewhat fed up looking emoticon. Yuzuru laughed and rolled onto his side.

  
Five weeks went by fairly quickly. Yuzuru leant his head against the window as they drove from Incheon to Gangneung. It was a beautiful view. Korea was an interesting country, with the intersection of modern apartment blocks and towering cities with green mountains and traditional villages. Yuzuru watched as they left the sleekness as the airport and the surrounding city and zipped through areas of frigid farmland dusted with a smattering of snow, and evergreen mountains covered in tall pines. There was a weight of expectation in his gut.

He would make this journey again, look out of a car window and see all of this another time but next time he would be heading to the Olympics. This time next year he’d be arriving at Incheon airport and heading to the east of the country to compete in what will be his second, and likely last, Olympics. He wanted to take in as much as he could. This time he wouldn’t see the Olympic village in Pyeongchang, but he would see the venue in Gangneung. He would see the environment he would train and compete in for weeks in a competition that would act as a culmination of everything he had been through and learned since 2014.  
He felt he hadn’t changed much since Sochi, but everything around him - the way people treated him and talked about him - had changed a lot. The pressure from media and his country would be far greater going to Pyeongchang than it was going to Sochi, but he was already into his third season of skating under that pressure. He didn’t imagine that would change much at all before or after the Olympic events. The greatest pressure had always come from himself: his desire, his expectations for himself. He didn’t think that would change for the Olympics either. He expected the best from himself whenever he competed no matter where it was.

It would ease his anxiety, however, to check out the venue beforehand, and potentially win once there before the Olympics came. He had won silver at the Sochi venue at the Russian test event. That had turned out to be quite lucky for him. He hoped he could create some luck in Pyeongchang too.

  
The area around the venue seemed nice enough - if a little barren. Yuzuru took photographs around the arena before signing in; of the walkways and car parks, the athletes' entrance, the outside of the building and everything around it - something he could show Javier later. The area was relatively quiet, but that would change when the audience started to arrive and would definitely not be the case the next time they would compete there.

Yuzuru felt oddly excited to be there. The competition was missing Javier, but it would not be easy considering four of Yuzuru’s rivals were there also to take the opportunity to preview the future Olympic venue. It felt as much as a rehearsal for the competitors as it was a test for the venue and organisers. It made the event feel more important. And after losing his National title, Yuzuru felt like he had something to prove. It would be a perfect time, he thought, to skate clean.

  
Yuzuru felt in generally good spirits, much to Brian’s relief. They had agreed to try to reduce Yuzuru’s reliance on his rituals before skating, particularly while they were in Gangneung. Specifically, Yuzuru’s reliance on his Pooh bear. He liked to have Pooh taped to the boards while he practised and warmed up so the bear could ‘watch’ him. Through the season he had developed a new element to his pre-skate routine: squeezing the bear’s head before he pushed away from the boards. Having routines to reduce nerves was not necessarily a bad thing, but it was unlikely that Pooh’s cute trademarked face would be allowed beside the rink next year. It was a good idea for Yuzuru to try reducing his nerves without his Pooh for a while.

Seeing Shoma and Keiji again helped. Shoma seemed a lot shyer than be had been through messages, which Yuzuru found a little funny He wondered if Shown was feeling the pressure of being National champion having to face off against Yuzuru in another competition so soon. Or if he still felt awkward about winning while Yuzuru hadn't been there. They had talked about that - Shoma feeling that he only won because Yuzuru had withdrawn and so somehow not really earned the title.

"I don't really own it. It feels like I'm just holding it for you," Shoma had said once, looking sleepy over webcam, hair almost in his eyes.

"It's yours; you earned it." Yuzuru had smiled.  
He had thought of similar things Javier had said after winning the World championships; the first time he had been so stunned at his own achievement, he worried it was somehow a mistake. The second time he had been apologetic as if he had stolen something from Yuzuru.  
It was touching how his friends to hold him in such high regard, but it made him feel a little awkward that at the same time they undervalued themselves. Javier won because of his own hard work, Shoma won because of his own hard work. Yuzuru being injured or sick or stressed didn’t take away anything from their victories, in his opinion. They were equals, with fairly even chances of winning on losing. They could think up a hundred 'what if' scenarios for any of them winning any competition; but ultimately the only thing that mattered was the reality; who trained better, who avoided injury, who had stepped on the ice with the better mental state that day. Maybe one day there would be a competition where everyone is in good physical and psychological form at once, and the best of each of them would be put against the best of others. But until then, there was no way of knowing who was the objective 'best’; only who was best at that moment, at that competition.

Shoma had loosened up by the evening. The contest hadn't really started yet, the first official practice session still pending. They opted to hang out to relax somewhat before they all became too tense and focused. The three of them lounged on Keiji's bed, playing games and chatting about anything but where they were.

“Are you going to look around at all while you’re here?” Yuzuru asked Shoma, being nice enough to wait until Keiji had excused himself to the bathroom just in case Shoma really didn’t want to sightsee at all.

Shoma shrugged. “Dunno. Alex invited me to go with him and Maia one day, but they’re going to a beach or something, and it’s cold so I don’t really see the point.”

“I hate beaches,” Yuzuru mumbled, agreeing with Shoma’s assessment that heading to a beach in the winter was not particularly appealing. “I’m not sure if I have much time to go anywhere. I might go somewhere to eat though. Would you come with me if I do?”

“Maybe,” Shoma said, chewing his lip for a second. “If it was just the two of us.”

“Poor Keiji,” Yuzuru teased.

“Oh, I forgot about him,” Shoma smirked, shrugging his shoulders. “I guess he could come too.”

“We’ll see if we can, anyway.” Yuzuru grimaced.  “My stomach gets weird at competitions. But Junhwan told me some things he thought I’d be able to handle. I’m not sure you’d like them.”

Shoma eyed him with a slight sulk. “You’re going to try to make me eat loads of vegetables, aren’t you?”

“Tofu.” Yuzuru beamed, leaning closer to Shoma, looking directly into his warm brown eyes. “How much do you like me? Enough to eat tofu?”

Shoma looked startled, his cheeks grew pinker as he opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out.

Keiji bounded back into the room. Shoma looked at him sharply, letting out a sigh of relief.  
Yuzuru straightened, turning to Keiji. “Did you get lost?”

Keiji pushed his shoulder before crawling back onto the bed. “Shut up.”

Yuzuru dramatically threw himself to the side and looked up at Shoma with an exaggerated pout. Shoma laughed and hit him with a pillow.

 

First practice wasn’t all that bad.

“Let’s focus on the choreography for today, okay?” Brian had instructed before Yuzuru headed out to the ice. Yuzuru nodded. The short program needed the right kind of performance, the right expressions, the right energy to really work. There would be other practices to run through with all the jumps. If he had a bad first practice, it could psyche him out.

Yuzuru bent down and touched the ice. It was good - no wet patches or scars that would catch his blade. The temperature in the rink was good, the blue around the rink reminded Yuzuru of Sochi. He cast his eyes around the rink as he warmed up. He listened carefully to the music as he ran through his short program. A little bit of echo, but not so much that some of the music cues felt delayed. Some of that echo would be absorbed by the crowd when the venue was filled. Now there was just a small gaggle of fans watching the practice - their low chatter and the chicks of camera shutters distant enough to not be distracting. The sound system decent, the music coming out clear.

"I can see you over thinking," Brian said with a knowing smile, gently reminding Yuzuru to just focus on each element, not to stray too much on the details of everything around him. He tried to pull his focus back into his body, but it felt like he was spilling out of his skin, leaking out to take note of the feel of the air against his skin and the ice under his blade. He caught himself trying to picture the view of the ice from different seats in the crowd - from the judges' tables to the highest seats at the back.

He fell on a quad salchow. He stood up and brushed the ice from his hip. The rather dismal success rate of the combination in competition so far played on Yuzuru’s mind. He needed to get it right.

Yuzuru turned to Shoma as they left the ice and walked out to the back.  “Good practice?”

Shoma shrugged nonchalantly. “Not bad.”

Shoma’s sense of balance suddenly seems to go completely out of synch with his body, legs not quite landing the way they were supposed to when he walked. He tripped and veered forwards. Yuzuru grabbed his wrist on reflex, helping him straighten up, and laughed. It was a common thing, to be clumsy off the ice, especially right after training when muscles could feel like jelly, and you’ve just spent at least half an hour conditioning your body to move on a slippery surface on blades.

As Shoma straightened up, Yuzuru’s hand slipped down from his wrist to his hand. Shoma looked embarrassed but didn’t pull away.

“You okay?” Yuzuru asked, grinning. He gave Shoma’s hand a squeeze before letting go. Shoma nodded mutely.

  
The second practice was smoother. Yuzuru felt less like he had to catalogue details of the rink and managed to land all of his jumps in the run through. After the practice, Yuzuru talked rapidly to Brian about the slight forward lean on his loop, the lingering uncertainty with the combination, the need to get the jump right when he performed for the competition.

“I like the blue colour,” Yuzuru said gesturing towards the entrance to the rink, going off on his third tangent. “I think it’s lucky colour for me. Maybe when I do free-”

“Yuzu,” Brian touched his shoulder, looking a little concerned. “Take a breath. Let’s just do our best in the short.”

Yuzuru nodded quickly.

 

Yuzuru didn’t feel like his nerves were out of control. There was a difference between nervousness and anxiety, and there was a definite edge of excitement that ran alongside the usual buzz of pre-competition nerves. He was happy to be in Korea, to see the city and be healthy. There was the sense of having something to prove, a feeling of weight and importance to the competition. He had never won Four Continents; he was eager to change that, especially now at an Olympic test event. He felt he was still in good spirits; the pressure wasn’t necessarily weighing him down. This was an opportunity, the opportunity he needed to show his successes in the previous season were not a fluke, that he had more to give, that his choices for his programs were not mistakes but challenges that would help him continue to grow.

After the final practice before the short program event, Yuzuru giggling with Boyang, joking about a mistake the announcer had made introducing them.

“You’re my team now,” Boyang grinned, flashing his charming snaggle-toothed smile. Yuzuru laughed, enjoying the final vestiges of a light atmosphere before everyone slipped into competition mode.

  
As he warmed up, Brian kept him away from the monitor and encouraged him to keep his earphones in.

“Just think about your own performance,” Brian had said before the warm up started. “Don’t think about other people’s scores.”

Yuzuru doubted hearing the scores of those who skated before him would really make a difference to him, but Brian’s efforts to keep the scores hidden from him gave the impression that everyone was doing well. The competition would be fierce. He needed to be at his best. He had been a touch unlucky in the draw, pulling a spot he wasn’t keen on skating in. Being the second skater of the group was one of Yuzuru’s least favourite spots, but he supposed he had to get used to having less favourable draws and get over it. There was no telling what the order would be at Worlds or the next Olympics. If he wanted to win gold, he had to be able to skate at any spot in the pack.

Yuzuru tried to hold his smile as he waited for the scores, a small curl of dread rolling in the pit of his stomach. He had popped the salchow, losing over ten points. He had tried to be lively and energetic through the rest of his routine, careful not to get sloppy in his steps, the keep his second score healthy in the hopes he could minimise the damage of such a costly mistake. He didn’t know what the others’ scores were like; he had no way of guessing where he might place if his score was dragged down to the 80s, or what the benchmark was the qualify for the free skate. If Brian had been hiding scores from him in attempt to calm his nerves, it had backfired.

 _97.04._ A good score. Yuzuru was surprised the score had come out so high. He slid into second place for the time being, but there were other skaters to come who could knock him down. 97 was a good score, a decent enough score that Yuzuru felt he should be able to hold on to a top-three position. He wondered how many points were between him and first place.

 

  
“I’m so tired,” Shoma mumbled grumpily after the media conference and all the other little things they had to do before they could, eventually, crawl onto the bus and head back to the hotel. Yuzuru sat next to him, letting Shoma take the seat by the window so he could rest his head against the glass.

“If you sleep, I’ll wake you up when we get to the hotel,” Yuzuru offered lightly. It wasn’t a particularly long drive from the venue to the hotel, but he assumed Shoma would appreciate a nap.

Shoma turned to him with a sleepy smile. “Or you could just carry me.”

“Want me to strain my back?” Yuzuru teased.

“I’m not that heavy,” Shoma retorted, shifting in his seat for maximum comfort.

Yuzuru leant his head back against the headrest, stifling a yawn. Shoma scowled at him.

“Hey, you can’t wake me up if you fall asleep too.”

Yuzuru turned his body to face Shoma a little better, wrinkling his nose cutely. Shoma’s fringe was getting a little long, wavy strands falling into one eye, making his squint awkwardly. Yuzuru lazily brushed the hair back so it wasn’t poking him in the eye anymore. Shoma stared at him, holding his breath for a second. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but stopped himself.

Yuzuru tilted his head curiously. “What?”

Shoma shook his head. “Nothing.”

Yuzuru closed his eyes briefly, blowing out a long breath. Fatigue settled over him. He needed to sleep. Being in third place after the short was not a complete disaster, but he felt a lot less confident than he maybe did before. When he opened his eyes again, Shoma was still staring at him.

“I hope we’ll be on the podium together,” Yuzuru said quietly, trying not to let on how nervous he was that, after placing so much importance on this event, he wasn’t going to get the result he wanted.

“We will,” Shoma said as if it were a fact. “We have a tradition to uphold.”

Yuzuru blinked rapidly, confused. “A tradition?”

Shoma grinned. “We have to get married at every competition, right?”

Yuzuru laughed, tension leaking out of him. “Of course! How could I forget?"

“So, we both have to work hard in the free to make sure we’re next to each other,” Shoma said, raising his chin as if issuing a challenge.

Yuzuru nodded his head in agreement. He’d do everything he could. The short might not have been ideal, but gold was still in reach.

The atmosphere was good for the free skate. Yuzuru had felt it for the short program, the responsiveness of the audience, the buzz of anticipation from the crowd, the warmth of their cheers of support for each skater. It was pleasing, the enthusiasm they showed not only for him but for everyone that performed. He could remember competitions where the cheers for him had been next to nonexistent; it was pleasing whenever he heard a crowd that gave support to everyone - not just their favourites. He was nervous in the warm-up, too aware of the six point gap between himself and Nathan, and the attempts Boyang and Shoma would make to match the American’s five-quad free program. It was exciting, to have such a high level of competition around him, but it was stressful.

He would be the fifth to skate for the free. The practice had not been great, the warm-up had not been perfect, but all that mattered was the performance in the end.

  
Yuzuru watched the beginning of Shoma’s program, the quad loop he landed as if he’d been doing it from the start of the season. Yuzuru felt a kick of competitive motivation to go out and do one better than Shoma. He smiled to himself, letting out a nervous breath and resuming his warm up. Brian eyed him cautiously, not wanting him to spend too much time watching the competition and thinking about his rivals’ scores. He would end up seeing Shoma’s score anyway, it was unavoidable, but at least now he was somewhat prepared to see something big when he would take his position on the ice. It didn’t scare him, not really. It was a challenge he wanted to rise to. He enjoyed having a peer to continually give those challenges. For so long it had only been Javier, especially after Tatsuki retired, it was thrilling to have so many more enter the field. It fed Yuzuru’s hunger to prove himself, be the best, keep moving forwards, work harder.

  
Yuzuru schooled his face into neutral, relaxed expression. He felt focused, sharp, full of fire. He wanted to win.

Yuzuru knew right before he left the ice that the jump was not right. He had to think at lightning speed what he could do to fix it - correcting the jump itself was out of the question, he just about got two rotations on it, unable to at least salvage a triple. For a split second he considered trying another salchow, either trying to get the quad on the end of a combo or wrangle out a triple, but as he completed a half loop to line up for it, he knew he didn’t have close to enough momentum or energy to pull it off. He swore mentally, moving on through his choreography, his mind racing. Dropping the triple toe had caused more damage to his score - if he continued with his planned program, he just threw away over 14 points. He needed to claw some of those points back somehow. He felt a small trickle of relief as he landed his quad toe, but he was still scrambling to do the maths. His quad toe was his next most secure jump after his triple axel; he would do a combination to at least retain four quads in the program.  
He threw himself into the triple axel, adding a triple toe. The crowd roared as he landed the second quad toe with the swell of the music, realising what he had done. He dropped into his spin, trying to calculate what points he had managed to claw back so far. It amounted to a little less than two points in base value he had managed to gain over his original layout, but if he did an axel for his final jumping pass instead of a lutz, he could claw back close to five points. He exited the spin, going through his choreographic sequence, feeling the nervous tension in the crowd. The air felt electric, the crowd watching intently, collectively holding their breath as he lined up for his final jump. Triple axel, Yuzuru threw himself into it with furious determination.

He gasped for air as the music struck its final chord and held out his arms to the crowd. He felt a sense of achievement; despite the mistake. He had put everything into the performance. He had maybe gotten a little sloppy towards the end, but he had proved something in having changed his layout on the fly like that. The audience rose to their feet, cheering loudly, throwing a torrent flowers and gifts onto the ice.

“Wow,” Brian said, holding up his hands, pink-faced and delighted. “That was exciting.”

Yuzuru laughed, slipping the guards onto his blades. He tried to explain, quickly, what he had been thinking as he changed his jumps before the score came. He knew they would talk about it later, so Brian wasn’t left in the dark. It had become important for both of them for Yuzuru to communicate.

 _206.67._ Yuzuru cheered, relieved he had managed to make back the points he had lost in the short program. He had fought his hardest through the free, landed his jumps and done everything he could to make up for his error. It worked out; the risk paid off. Now he just had to see if it was enough.

“Wow,” Patrick smiled, shaking Yuzuru’s hand as he entered the back room. “Great fight.”

Yuzuru chuckled. “Thank you.”

He sat next to Shoma and let his head fall back against the back of the seat.

“Guess I won’t be beating you this time,” Shoma said light-heartedly.

Yuzuru cracked open an eye and smiled. “You’re getting closer though. I see you stole the loop from me.”

Shoma grinned wickedly. “Told you I would.” He turned back to the screen, seeing Nathan take position on the ice. “I hope I’ve done enough for silver, but I think I might be taking bronze.”

“I hope I’ve done enough for gold.” Yuzuru pulled himself upright to watch the last skater. “What happened in your free?”

“I fell on both my axels,” Shoma said with a grimace. “I hope we’ll still be next to each other anyway.”

Yuzuru chewed his lip nervously as they watched. Nathan got all of his jumps, but not without some errors on the landings.

“It’s going to be close,” Patrick muttered, looking up at Yuzuru. “You could have him on performance components.”

Yuzuru hummed in agreement, his stomach flipping. Nathan was only in his first year of seniors but was already a major threat. He might not have the greatest execution, or much in transitions, or much in interpretation of the music but he had a solid foundation and a lot of technical content. Yuzuru felt another spark of motivation; the fire grew hotter as he watched Nathan finish his program. He couldn’t remember the field being so much fun - so many people with the potential to win, the smallest mistake could make all the difference. It reminded him of how he had felt as a child - when competing was new to him and the most exciting thing in the world. It hadn’t been stressful back then, just fun. Over the years that sense of fun didn’t go away, but it got overtaken by nerves and pressure. Suddenly, competing felt incredibly fun again.

“I want gold,” Yuzuru murmured. “Give me the gold.”

Shoma’s hands fidgeted in his lap. The room fell deathly silent as they waited for Nathan’s score.

 _204.34._ Yuzuru whined in dismay. He had won the free skate but lost the competition. “No~ why couldn’t they give me the gold.”

Shoma let out a heavy sigh, mimicking Yuzuru as he rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his face in his hands.

“He’s only seventeen,” Patrick said, sounding distant. “So young.”

Yuzuru nodded. So young. So much potential to grow. But Yuzuru wasn’t at his peak yet either - he still had potential too, he still had areas to improve on.

  
As they waited for the medal ceremony, Yuzuru shook Nathan’s hand and pulled him into a slightly awkward hug. “Welcome to three-hundred point club.”

Nathan looked at Yuzuru’s broad smile in shock before snorting out a laugh. “Thank you. You were great.”

“You also great. You made competition very fun.” Yuzuru grinned, honestly feeling it. He was frustrated, restless, but not depressed. He wanted to rewind and do it again, but better. “Worlds will be interesting.”

Nathan seemed to baulk at the mention of Worlds, but his smile remained. “I look forward to it.”

There was some regret in getting a silver medal, but when Shoma caught his eye, and they linked arms behind Nathan’s back, all Yuzuru felt was happy.

 

Yuzuru watched Shoma's new exhibition at the gala. He liked the song he had chosen; the calm guitar and soft vocals. David had done a good job with Shoma, it seemed. Shoma glided beautifully across the ice, his whole body moving, fluid and expressive as if motion was a language and he was trying to have a conversation. Yuzuru felt it, what the music and the movements were communicating. Longing. A tug at his heart. An aching want to be held.

He kept that feeling. It suited his own exhibition. His music was romantic, his choreography rich and delicate. He was the lone swan, without a mate, full of longing. It was a challenging piece, with only two jumps to dazzle the crowd with, everything rested on his ability to emote through movement. He knew what it was to love, to want, to pine for someone, to feel alone. But his feeling changed, somehow. Rather than being a sad swan in love, he felt more like a different character. One that was looking to the future, full of hope. He felt graceful and powerful; the vulnerability was still there, but it didn't make him weak. It was part of his strength.

He nearly landed his salchow on his face. The interruption, the break of character, annoyed him. He should've just done another axel.

 

  
Having the gala after the free skate meant that by the time they had the closing banquet, Yuzuru was completely exhausted. It was fun, though, to see Shoma being dragged down the aisle by the Olympic mascots. The banquet would, at least, be short. It was too late to drag it on too long.

Keiji looked over at Zijun with a dopey smile. “She's so beautiful.”

Yuzuru snorted, leaning against the wall. He heard this at least three times at any competition they shared. Shoma rolled his eyes, clearly also having heard it all before. “Go and tell her.”

“I don’t want to be a creep,” Keiji sulked.

“I think complimenting her is less creepy than staring at her,” Shoma said flatly.

“Go and be friendly,” Yuzuru encouraged. “She thinks you’re nice. If you asked her she’d give you her number.”

Keiji went a bit pink. “You talked to her about me?”

“I’m friends with her,” Yuzuru pointed out as if it’s obvious. “She liked your short program last year.”

Shoma nudged Keiji incessantly, seemingly trying to annoy him enough to move. “Go ask her to take a picture with you.”

“You, butt out,” Keiji whined, swatting at Shoma ineffectively. “I have to put up with you-”

Shoma, seemingly, stamped on Keiji’s foot under the table, making him yelp.

“You like someone?” Yuzuru grinned, watching the colour flood into Shoma’s cheeks. “Keiji, you should go and set a good example.”

“Oh, I don’t think Shoma needs any more encouragement,” Keiji grumbled. “But if it will shut you both up.”

Yuzuru cackled, watching as Keiji walked towards to where the Chinese skaters were stood, smoothly asking Zijun for a photo. Yuzuru grinned at Shoma with a waggle of his eyebrows as Zijun delicately took Keiji’s phone off him to punch in her phone number.

  
Every muscle in Yuzuru’s body felt heavy and tired, but he was also strangely keyed up, even as they headed back to the hotel to get some much-needed sleep.

Shoma followed Yuzuru to his room, hanging back as Keiji said his goodbyes and continued down the hall. He gave Shoma an odd look but said nothing, just waved and bid them a good night.

Shoma looked at Yuzuru edgily. “Is it okay if I come in your room for a moment?”

“Sure,” Yuzuru said, confused. “I’m not going to be able to sleep straight away anyway.”

They entered the room quietly. Yuzuru sat on his bed with a content sigh. Even if he wasn’t ready to sleep, he was beyond ready to lie down. He patted the mattress beside him, urging Shoma to sit. Shoma perched on the edge of the bed awkwardly.

Yuzuru looked at Shoma curiously, head tilting to the side. Shoma hadn’t been this awkward around him for a long time. It was strange. Shoma shifted so he was facing Yuzuru. There's something warm about Shoma’s expression, and Yuzuru knew he had seen that kind of expression on Shoma’s face before but never been able to really recognise what it was.

“Yuzu, I want to tell you something,” Shoma said slowly, determined.

“Okay.”

Shoma took a deep breath, looking into Yuzuru’s eyes seriously. It was the first time in a while Shoma looked so nervous, but where he used to look away now, Shoma held eye contact. Yuzuru liked that. He absently thought that Shoma had pretty eyes, something he found himself thinking with some frequency when Shoma looked at him.

Yuzuru looked back at him curiously, waiting for Shoma to speak. Shoma moved as if he wanted to take Yuzuru’s hand but then stopped himself and drew his arm back to fidget in his lap instead.

“I wanted to tell you on Tuesday but I was scared it would be distracting before the competition, and I know it was important to you to do well here.”

Shoma swallowed nervously and blew out a breath. His cheeks were adorably pink.

“I like you.”

“Oh.” Yuzuru exhaled, stunned. He was not stupid. He did not need any clarification. People typically did not feel the need to declare a platonic, friendly liking of another person. Tuesday, Shoma had wanted to tell him on Tuesday. Tuesday had been Valentine’s Day. Yuzuru was briefly tickled by the idea that Shoma had wanted to make his confession then. He wondered how he would have reacted to it then - probably not much different to how he was reacting to it a few days late. A little numb, but not in a negative kind of way. Yuzuru could feel his face heat up, matching the flush in Shoma’s cheeks.

Hearing it said out loud… It instantly made sense; it seemed blindingly obvious. Yuzuru briefly thought that he shouldn't be surprised at all. The confession was unexpected, but sentiment really shouldn’t have been.

“I’ve-I’ve sort of had a crush on you for a while,” Shoma continued, eyes looking resolutely at his feet.

Yuzuru dimly noted the way his lashes fanned out, the pretty shape of his eyes. He liked whenever Shoma looked up at him, but he was cute bashfully looking away like this too.

“And we started getting closer...I just-I think about you a lot? And I like talking to you and being around you.” Shoma chewed his lip briefly, his voice trailing off to a shy mumble. “I feel happy around you. I just wanted you to know.”

Shoma looked back up at him, large brown eyes a little unsure but faintly hopeful. There was a slight tension to him as if he were bracing himself for Yuzuru to be feeling the exact opposite of how he did upon hearing this. Yuzuru found that oddly charming if a little upsetting. It was sweet that Shoma had gathered the courage to let his feelings be known despite a fear of Yuzuru potentially taking it badly, but he hoped that Shoma didn’t believe for a second he would react in a particularly cruel way.

Yuzuru bit his lip and smiled. Joy inexplicably bubbled up inside of him. He made Shoma happy. That was the single sweetest thing he could have possibly heard.

“You’re...happy?”

Yuzuru giggled softly. “Yeah.”

“Oh.” Shoma looked at him in wonderment. The slight defensiveness in his posture melted away, any reservations he had disappeared.

“Oh,” Yuzuru teased, scrunching his nose. The smile that broke out on Shoma’s face was like a beam of sunlight breaking from behind a cloud. It was the most beautiful smile Yuzuru had ever seen; it glowed with pure happiness.

Yuzuru’s head spun. It was hard to figure out how he felt about this what he really thought. The only thing he could really process was that he felt good about it - light, happy, as if Shoma had just handed him some wonderful gift that was priceless and incomparable with any material object.

“I-I have to think about it,” Yuzuru stuttered. Uncertainty crept in through the buzz of white noise in his brain.  
What did Shoma want? What could Yuzuru offer him in return? How did he really feel about Shoma? His only experience of this kind of thing had been with Javier, and by the time they moved from a standard friendship to something more complicated, his feelings had been already well established, and he had been fairly sure they were somewhat reciprocated. Nothing was established between Yuzuru and Shoma right now.

“I’m not rejecting you. I...I think I like you too?” Yuzuru cleared his throat. “I mean. I’ve thought of you too. In that way. But. I need to think.”

“Oh, it’s okay!” Shoma rushed. “You don’t need to-I wasn’t expecting an answer now.” Shoma paused, looking back down at his lap, voice growing smaller. “I mean, I figured if I told you and you weren’t interested then it’d still be kinda easy to still be friends and let it go. I hadn’t really thought about if you were interested in me too.”

“You thought I’d reject you?”

“I hoped you wouldn’t,” Shoma said with a tilt of his head. “But I prepared myself for it.”

“I just. I don’t know…” Yuzuru struggled. He didn’t know how he felt, what he wanted, what his answer should be.

“It’s okay,” Shoma assured him gently. “I just wanted to tell you.”

Yuzuru reached out, covering one of Shoma’s hands with his own. “I’m glad you told me.”

Shoma looked up, cheeks still very pink. “So. Now you know I like you.”

Yuzuru nodded, his smile growing. “And you know I kinda like you too.”

Shoma laughed quietly, delirious. Yuzuru could feel his hand shaking; it made his heart ache. How scared had Shoma been to tell him? How much had he feared that rejection would not be the worst response Yuzuru would have? Yuzuru felt a little overwhelmed with a cacophony of emotions washing over him. He couldn’t even begin to sort out what they were.

“Do you want… Do you want to date me?” Yuzuru asked breathlessly. He couldn’t possibly give an answer now if Shoma was asking for them to start dating, but at least he would know exactly what it was he had to think about.

“I-I-” Shoma stuttered, looking a little dazed. “Maybe? I didn’t really think that far ahead.”

Yuzuru laughed softly, overcome with affection. He didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Nothing has to change,” Shoma said, voice hoarse. “I like how things are, but maybe we can be a bit more...free.”

“While we think about what we want,” Yuzuru said quietly. He suspected Shoma was playing up his uncertainty for Yuzuru’s benefit, but he appreciated that Shoma was willing to give him that time to think.

“Yeah,” Shoma said, turning his hand underneath Yuzuru’s so they were palm-to-palm. “We can decide. If-we want to...” Shoma’s breath stuttered as Yuzuru threaded their fingers together. “Be something.”

“I don’t want us to be weird,” Yuzuru said, giving Shoma’s still-trembling hand a small squeeze.  “I like talking to you. I-I feel happy with you too.”

Shoma bit his lip, his eyes looked damp, as if he were so happy he could cry. The smile on his face was infectious. For a moment, Yuzuru wished they could stay like this forever - bathed in pure joy, no expectations or pressure. He wanted to hold Shoma close until he felt calm - until any anxiety or fear left him, and all he felt was warm and safe and happy.

“Maybe- We can not put any label on anything for now and just...see how we go?” Yuzuru suggested, unsure.  
He didn’t want to rush anything. He had rushed too much with Javier without knowing for certain what Javier had wanted, or what he had wanted. It hadn’t ended well. He didn’t want to tell Shoma no, but he wasn’t going to rush into anything while he was still so unsure of his feelings. Shoma meant too much to him, was too precious to him. He wanted to be sure, to have no regrets. He was ready to let Javier go, or at least he thought so, but he needed to be sure that he could give Shoma everything he deserved.

Shoma giggled. “Pre-dating?”

Yuzuru laughed warmly. “I’d like that.”

“No pressure, just…”

“Knowing we’re interested in each other,” Yuzuru finished.

Shoma met his eyes, excited and overwhelmed. “That’s already way more than what I expected.”

“You’ll tell me, if...if your feelings change at all?” Yuzuru asked. If Shoma suddenly became sure that he wanted more, wanted a real relationship, he’d want to know immediately. He regretted not being clear with Javier when his feelings grew. He didn’t want Shoma to have similar regrets.

Shoma nodded slowly. “And you’ll tell me what you’re thinking too, right?”

“Of course.”

Yuzuru’s skin felt warm and awash with a tingling feeling. The reality started to sink in.  
Shoma wasn’t just a friend anymore. They entered new territory - an in between state. A new path was laid out before him, one they would go down together to see where it lead.

“It’s late.” Shoma croaked, seemingly remembering just how tired he was. “Um...I should go. We should sleep.”

“We should.” Yuzuru laughed, letting go of Shoma’s hand. He wasn’t shaking anymore.

He walked with Shoma to the door, feeling a little dizzy from how one conversation had tilted his world on its axis. He paused, hesitating to reach for the handle.

“Goodnight Shoma.”

Yuzuru pulled Shoma into a tight hug. Shoma stiffened but quickly melted against him, his chin finding a home on Yuzuru’s shoulder, arms coming around Yuzuru’s waist to return to embrace.  
Yuzuru closed his eyes, his heart racing. He didn’t know anything, except he was happy, and Shoma was warm and solid in his arms. That’s all that mattered right then. He didn’t know how he felt about Shoma; He didn’t if his liking of him was platonic or romantic, of his affection was friendship or more. But he felt the potential there. He felt he could, maybe, return Shoma’s romantic feelings. He felt attraction, a spark of possibility to maybe feel more. That possibility was worth exploring.

He let Shoma go slowly, taking one last look into his dark brown eyes. Right then, with his face flush and a smile perpetually tugging at his lips, Shoma seemed so beautiful.

Shoma looked up at Yuzuru - his face glowing, eyes soft with obvious affection, pink cupids-bow lips the most gentle smile - and thought exactly the same.

“Goodnight.”

 

It took Yuzuru over an hour to fall asleep, but as he lay in bed staring at the wall, he had a smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is coming out a little later than intended because I got a bit lazy. I will be slowing down my posting schedule to a chapter around every 2 weeks so.  
> Comments are appreciated!


	13. Distraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuzuru is very confused. And frustrated. On many, many levels.

**Distraction**

 

Five weeks.  
  
In five weeks, everyone would be congregating at Helsinki for the final big fight of the season. The last chance to win the World Championships before the Olympic season started. Everyone would be fighting for spots, to give their country more representatives to choose, and increasing the chances that they would be selected to go to Pyeongchang.

The competition would be intense. Yuzuru felt the pressure, the weight of expectation for him to do enough to earn three spots for Japanese men at the Olympics. He felt...a lot of things; like the burning need to win the championship and skate two clean programs for the dose of confidence and assurance he desperately needed. He felt stressed from the number of strong rivals around him, who would beat him soundly if he failed to deliver the performances he wanted. But he was also oddly soothed, that Shoma was doing so well this year he could trust that Shoma would be able to get the three Olympic spots. Shoma’s steady rise to the top through the somehow applied and relieved pressure at the same time.

Yuzuru felt a fluttering in the pit of his stomach thinking about Shoma. The pleasant kind of fluttering; a rush of warmth, a smile tugging at his lips. Maybe it was confusing, perhaps Yuzuru was unsure uncertain about what he wanted on what he should do. But there was something sweet and pure about Shoma’s confession - without expectations, without wanting instant reciprocation or a rapid change in their relationship, Shoma had told Yuzuru that his feelings more than just friendly. Just because Yuzuru had a right to know. So they could move forwards aware of how the other felt, and adjust if needed. There was something refreshing and very welcome to that honesty, the lack of pretence. Yuzuru was touched, that Shoma cared enough about their developing friendship to risk the sting of rejection to do what he thought would be best to protect it in the long-term.

***

Yuzuru thought it was harmless. It a good thing, if anything. Progress. He wasn't just avoiding things he didn't like anymore; he was dealing with them. Coping.

Brian seemed a little more wary. Yuzuru could see it in the way his brows shot up when Yuzuru asked to start early, to finish training the same time as Javier because they had plans for after practice.

"You have plans," Brian repeated flatly. "With Javi. After training."

"Yes." Yuzuru was unsure what the problem was. He would have thought Brian would be happy they were being friendly, especially so close to Worlds. "We go to café. I will tell him about Olympic arena."

Brian had seemed a little relieved by that, but the wary look on his face didn't entirely disappear.

Yuzuru held his promise. He sat next to Javier in the crowded café, tucked in the corner for the sake of privacy. Yuzuru cradled the warm mug in his hands between kittenish sips. It was still cold in Canada.  
Javier hummed and nodded, listening well as Yuzuru ran through a tirade of observations about the arena, showing the pictures he had taken on his phone. Occasionally Javier chipped in with opinions or little questions as if assuring Yuzuru he was actually listening. Yuzuru bemoaned his silver medal, the mistake in the short program costing him the gold, and the wild scramble to save his free program.

“The triple axel right at the end of your program was something though,” Javier said with a grin.

Yuzuru laughed. “I was surprised I had energy for it. But axel is friend.”

Javier hummed, leaning close enough that their shoulders brushed. “I remember when you could barely stand at the end of a program.”

“I grew up,” Yuzuru said softly. He also remembered. It wasn’t really that long ago that he would struggle to keep himself upright as he skated through the last minute of a program. He had made a lot of progress, but he still had further to go. “I got stronger.”

“You did,” Javier smiled fondly, a content sigh that was a touch wistful punctuating his speech. “Sometimes it feels like I’ve known you forever, and sometimes it feels like no time at all.”

Yuzuru smiled, nostalgia slowly unfurling deep in his chest, his body naturally inclined towards Javier. “Seven years.”

“Seven? You’ve not been with Brian for that long.”

“I’ve known Javi that long,” Yuzuru corrected. “You were friend before I move to Canada.”

Yuzuru remembered the way Javier had been so warm, so welcoming, to him when they started competing together. Yuzuru had been so young. Javier had been struggling and was losing faith in himself but still wanted to cheer on the kid with barely any English and a nasty habit of keeling over in the middle of the ice once he finished a program.  
There was a language barrier, but Javi somehow bypassed it. There was an age gap that meant nothing to them. There was the difference in culture that Javier navigated.  
Yuzuru had been recovering from the trauma of the earthquake and was over-eager to push himself, wanting desperately to meet the pressure and expectations he was piling on his own shoulders. Javier made him laugh, reminded him it was okay to have fun.

Everything had been quick and easy for them, always. Javier had always been fun and comfortable to be around. They clicked. Yuzuru ached to think about it; the years they had been friends, growing closer and closer, becoming more and more entangled without really thinking about what they would become. He missed that friendship - before everything became complicated and tinged with the bitterness of a broken heart and the kick of lingering feelings that seemed like a stain Yuzuru couldn’t lift. Their friendship was still intact, but damaged and dirtied by misunderstands and missed opportunities. Much like Yuzuru’s heart was still whole but scarred, covered in Javier’s fingerprints that would never be wiped clean. Yuzuru thought that maybe, now that the breaks in his heart had healed and bruises had faded they could move on. Save that friendship, dust it off, forge a new closeness. But it wasn’t that easy.

Yuzuru looked down at where he warmed his hands, cupping the somewhat over-large mug in his hands, breathing in the scent of the tea Javier had bought for him. He smiled. It had been some time since they had done something like this. Yuzuru glanced at Javier, who was looking at Yuzuru with a soft expression. It was the kind of expression that made Yuzuru forget about the cold weather outside because it felt like being bathed in sunlight to see those light brown eyes and the gentle smile.

“Yuzu,” Javier said quietly, just loud enough for Yuzuru to hear over the bustle and clatter of the cafe. He angled his body move towards Yuzuru as if trying to make their conversation more private. “I need to tell you something.”

For a moment, Yuzuru was reminded of Shoma, looking determined despite his hands trembling, the breathless confession and the sweet smile that followed.

Yuzuru swallowed awkwardly. “Okay.”

Javier straightened in his seat, bringing himself back, so there was a touch more distance between the two of them. His eyes flickered down and back up again as if he were nervous and needed a moment to collect himself.

“Me and Miki broke up.”

Yuzuru forgot to breathe. His breath caught in his throat for the space of little more than a few heartbeats. It felt like Javier had just thrown ice-cold water over him.  
The bubble of chatter in the cafe seemed to become fuzzy and distant. Everything shrank down to just Yuzuru and Javier, the little booth they sat is, the feeble curls of steam rising from his tea.

“When?” Yuzuru asked, trying to not sound in any way hysterical. His voice came out raspy.

“A little after the new year,” Javier said tightly. “She came to have Christmas with my family. For Hima. We decided then.”

Yuzuru’s skin prickled. After Marseille Javier had gone home, spent Christmas with his family, his girlfriend and her daughter, and then ended his relationship. “When you called me…”

“We broke up before I called you,” Javier told him, hesitating for a moment, anticipating when Yuzuru might ask him next. “I didn’t want to dump it on you before a competition, especially if we weren’t going to see each other for a while.”

Yuzuru’s throat felt dry. His hands were clammy. He slid them away from the mug, onto his lap. His shoulders felt tense. “You didn’t-Not because of me?”

“We were going to break up anyway.” Yuzuru could feel Javier’s eyes boring into him as he spoke slowly, his voice measured and calm. “I told you that.”

“You were fighting. You were worried you might-” Yuzuru bit his lip, shaking his head. “I didn’t think you would.” He met Javier’s gaze for a split second before looking away again. He didn't know what to think, what to feel. “I didn’t want- I don’t want you to think I was trying to break you up.”

“There were a lot of reasons we broke up,” Javier said gently, touching Yuzuru’s forearm. Yuzuru looked up at him. Javier’s eyes were sincere, his brow slightly furrowed. “It was a decision Miki and I both made together. You were a factor but not the only reason.”

A factor. Yuzuru was a factor. He didn’t know what to make of that. “Did you tell her?”

“Tell her what?”

“That-” Yuzuru lowered his voice, even though he doubted anyone was listening in on them, his eyes dropped to Javier’s mouth, then his shoulder. “That I tried to kiss you.”

“That isn't really what happened.” Javier’s voice dropped a little deeper, quieter. “I’m guilty too. I wanted to kiss you too.”

Yuzuru flushed. The sounds of the cafe around them seemed to get louder, making him more and more aware of where they were. They weren’t alone. They were having a conversation that should have been private in a public area. It made him nervous.  
But still, he found himself revisiting that hotel room in France one more time. He thought about the way they had sat together, the way Javier had looked at him, feeling like there was an internal and external force pushing him closer to him. Yuzuru had wanted to kiss him so much.  
It had been a mistake, a lapse in judgement, and the last thing Yuzuru wanted was for Javier to immediately end his relationship with Miki because of it. He supposed it made sense; he remembered how distressed Javier had been when admitting he thought of Yuzuru in a way he shouldn’t.

Javier’s voice broke through the memory. “I didn’t tell her. It would just hurt her for no reason.”

Yuzuru’s jaw tightened. “Right. Nothing happened.”

“I just mean,” Javier said quickly, sensing the shift in Yuzuru’s mood. “What happened in France is not why-” He stuttered, fumbling, the grip on Yuzuru’s arm tightening slightly. “It’s not the only reason.”

“I’m sorry,” Yuzuru muttered.

“You don’t have to be sorry. It was going to happen even if you hadn’t-” Javier huffed, struggling to get the right words. “I think we needed that to happen. It made me realise a few things.”

“Like what?”

Javier’s eyes locked with Yuzuru’s. “Like one of the reasons things weren’t working with Miki was because of how I feel about you.”

Yuzuru held his gaze, biting at the inside of his lip. He could feel goose-flesh break out up his arms. Across the room, a woman laughed loudly, breaking any illusion of privacy or intimacy they had. Yuzuru wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad thing that they were in public. The people around them almost felt like a safety net, a reminder to behave.

The hand that had touched Yuzuru’s forearm dropped to his wrist, touching the skin exposed where Yuzuru’s jacket sleeves came to an end. Apparently, Javier did not think he had to behave himself at all. “I know you were trying to not get between us--”

Yuzuru’s throat feels tight. “I wanted you to be happy.”

“I was for a while,” Javier’s weak smile didn’t reach his eyes. “But it wasn’t working with Miki. And it was always hard to have you pulling away from me.”

“I know. But sometimes it’s hard for me to be around you.”

It was a painful confession to make, and it was difficult for Javier to hear. His eyes dropped to his lap, his shoulders sagged. Yuzuru knew he hadn’t dealt with Javier particularly well, that the pulling away, the avoidance, had made things worse. His insistence on hiding that anything was wrong at all had just lead to it hurting more, for longer, getting worse along the way. Javier had his blame to take, things he had done wrong, but Yuzuru knew he was at fault too. It had taken Yuzuru far too long to learn that when you hide from problems they tend to get worse.

“I’m scared I won’t be able to stay friendly with her,” Javier admitted quietly. “I still want to be there for her and Hima.”

Of course, Yuzuru thought. The child. Javier adored Himawari. He wanted to give some reassurance, but when he spoke the words felt hollow. “You can work something out.”

“I don’t know,” Javier said glumly. “I’m not very good at things like that.” He grimaced, letting go of Yuzuru’s wrist. “I couldn’t stay close to Courtney.”

“That was different situation.”

Javier met Yuzuru’s eyes, bringing his coffee close to his face. “We drifted apart too.”

There was no use in denying that. They had drifted apart. It was a fact. They tried, they did their best to keep their relationship amicable but Yuzuru’s boundaries became more restrictive than they once were, and his temper would flare when Javier unwittingly crossed them. Things got better the less raw Yuzuru felt, but the lack of any real closure drove a wedge between them.

“Do you have unfinished thing with Miki?” Yuzuru asked. “Things you didn’t say?”

Javier swallowed and put his cup back down with a soft thunk. “No.”

“Do you think Miki does?”

Javier laughs shortly. “No. We talked a lot. I can’t think of anything she didn’t say.”

“Then you and Miki can be okay,” Yuzuru said, trying to sound reassuring but coming across as pained. “It won’t be like you and me.”

Those words hung in the air, heavy with a mutual sense of regret. Yuzuru loosely crossed his arms over his stomach, hunching forwards slightly. The silence between them filled with the burring of the coffee machine and the murmur of chatter from other tables. There was some small comfort that no one was looking at them, no one was paying any attention to them at all.

“You have things you wish you said?” Javier asked gently.

Yuzuru looked at him with a humoured smile. “You don’t?”

“I have a lot of things I want to say to you.” Javier closed his eyes and sighed. Yuzuru watched him, searching, wondering: what regrets did he have? What did he wish he had said? When Javier speaks, his voice is tight. “I hurt you, right?”

“You did.”

“And you still-” Javier hesitated, unsure. “You still have feelings for me?”

Yuzuru stared blankly at the table. There was no steam rising from his cup anymore; his half-drank tea was now cold and unappealing.  
It was a question he didn’t want to answer, but he had to.  
He nodded his head slowly. The real question was in what way, and how much, he still felt for Javier. There was still affection, respect, attraction. There were moments of longing and also of comfort. The trust that had been broken was at least partially rebuilt.

Yuzuru felt they could have friendship in their future; they were teammates, close like family. They cared for each other, supported each other and would continue to do so. The complication was the memory of pain; the explanations and apologies Yuzuru never received. There was always that thought in the back of their minds that if they had handled their relationship differently while it had been developing, they could have been happy together. If they had been clearer with each other, more honest with each other… Yuzuru wondered if he would ever know what mistakes he made that lead them to this conclusion. He wondered what he could have done differently and what effect it would have had.

He had thought it had been a simple case of miscommunication: Javier had wanted to fool around while Yuzuru thought he wanted a relationship. He thought the mistake he made was throwing himself head-first into a relationship that only he really wanted, letting himself fall too fast, giving himself to feelings he thought they were growing together when really he was alone. He had thought it was a simple case of two friends with mutual attraction getting involved with each other without checking to see if they were on the same page.

Yuzuru wasn’t so sure about that anymore. Now it seemed that he hadn’t been entirely alone with his feelings after all and when their fling had come to its end and Yuzuru got his heart broken, it was becoming clearer that he hadn’t been the only one to hold on. Javier had been holding on too. But it made no sense. Yuzuru was completely perplexed; why would Javier drop him and immediately move on to Miki if he had feelings for Yuzuru too?  
He wished they had cleared this up earlier, but he couldn’t bring himself to fully regret keeping his feelings to himself. Miki deserved to have a chance with Javier without Yuzuru interfering.  
It was better to work this out while it was just between Yuzuru and Javier.

Yuzuru felt a twinge as he realised that it wasn’t just between himself and Javier, even with Miki out of the picture. He had to consider Shoma too. Were the feelings that remained for Javier little more than the ghost of a love that was lost? The spectre of what could have been had hung over Yuzuru for so long, could life be breathed into it? Could the ashes of the relationship they once had be brought back to life? He owed it to himself to consider this, he owed it to Javier, but he also owed it to Shoma. Yuzuru didn’t want to hurt him. It wasn’t a matter of needing to know definitively that he did not love Javier anymore to feel it was right to finally let go and move on. He was unlikely to reach that kind of conclusion any time soon, especially with the nature of his relationship with Javier where the love he once had would not simply disappear, but change. Rather, Yuzuru felt like he would need to reach some certainty that what he felt for Javier was enough to stop him from trying to develop a relationship with Shoma. If he wanted Javier, if he wanted to try again and Javier wanted the same, he needed to know that things would be different and it would be worth it to throw away the chance to have something with Shoma.

He didn’t want to place any pressure on whatever it was that was growing between himself and Shoma. It was still so young, so new, little more than the beginnings of feelings starting to rise within them. A seed that might grow given a chance. Maybe any relationship would be short, perhaps it wouldn’t work out, but he had promised to think about it. He would need a really good reason not to give Shoma a chance at least.  
It would have been easier if Javier had not broken up with Miki. If that path was still closed off, it would be easier to take his first tentative steps in a new direction with Shoma.

Javier's voice snapped Yuzuru out of his chain of thought. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were with someone else.” Yuzuru shrugged. “I didn’t want-- I didn’t want to make mess.”

Javier’s hand came down on Yuzuru’s thigh. A light touch; the kind Yuzuru knew was something Javier didn’t think about, but he just needed a point of contact with who he was talking to. Javier had always been like this.

“What do you want now?”

The question almost makes Yuzuru want to laugh. “I don’t know.”

“Me either.” Javier sighed, pulling his hand away. “What things do you wish you said to me?”

“A lot of things,” Yuzuru told him with a wry smile. “I have questions I never got answers to.”

“Like what?”

Yuzuru paused, considering for a moment if he really wanted to do this. Five weeks from when he would see Shoma again, five weeks where he and Javier would have to train alongside each other under pressure that would grow each day.

Yuzuru shook his head. “I can’t do this now,”

Javier cast his eyes around the cafe. “Not the right place? We can-”  
“Not right time,” Yuzuru told him firmly. Though the place was also far from ideal. “I want to focus on Worlds.”

The tension in Javier’s expression seemed to melt away, replaced with amusement and understanding. “Me too.”

“Then...For now. Let’s not-” Yuzuru paused, licking his lips unconsciously. So many times they had come close to a conversation like this, and every time Yuzuru had shut down and pulled away. He knew that. This was different. “I’m not pushing you away this time.”

“I know.”

“I just--we’re about to compete.”

“I understand.” Javier smiled.

A cafe was in no way the right place to discuss their history, their feelings; it wasn’t the right place for Yuzuru to get the answers he wanted or to say all the things he had been hiding ever since he heard Javier had moved on to Miki. It also really, really wasn’t the right time. The run up to the World Championships - the last competition of the year, one of the most important - was always tense but this year would be even more so. This would be Yuzuru’s last chance to win there, regain the title before the Olympic season - the culmination of years of work. It would be hard enough to be friendly, to be going directly against each other for the right to be introduced to the world as the reigning champion. They didn’t need the additional complication, the distraction, of trying to piece together a broken relationship and figure out where to go from there. Especially when Yuzuru feeling so unsure and Shoma in the periphery, confusing Yuzuru further with shy smiles.

***

  
Yuzuru should have been getting ready to sleep, but Kanako had messaged him to see if he was free, and he needed someone to talk to. So he set up his webcam and settled himself in front of his laptop. Kanako was unique in that he could be completely honest with her, and was one of the only people who wasn't completely exhausting to speak to.  
Besides, she seemed upset. She needed someone too. He wanted to be there for her, whenever she needed him. Like he knew she was there for him.

She wasn't as upset as Yuzuru expected, rather she seemed uncharacteristically blank.  
"I'm retiring."

It was an entirely surprising revelation, but it made Yuzuru’s heart sink. He listened as Kanako explained her reasons, why she knew now was the time. She knew there was no way she would be selected for the Pyeongchang Olympics; she had failed to achieve the kinds of results she had wanted, competing just wasn’t fun anymore. It had become draining; it had been draining for a while. Yuzuru had seen the change in her, the way she had slowly crumbled, the repeated disappointments and setbacks chipping away at her confidence and joy.

“I want to go pro while I’m still able to enjoy skating,” she told him with a wistful smile. Yuzuru hated seeing her smile tinged with such sadness.

“When are you going to announce it?”

“After Mao.” Kanako shrugged. Her voice was light though a little forced. He knew she was settled with her decision, but that didn’t mean it was an easy thing to talk about. “Probably at World Team Trophy. I’ll have my last amateur performance there.”

“At least I’ll be there for it,” Yuzuru said, finding some small comfort in that. “Hopefully we’ll have chances to skate together while you’re a pro.”

Yuzuru was relieved he'd he there for Kanako's last performance and the announcement. He hadn't been there when Tatsuki had announced his sudden retirement. He still regretted that.  
It had been the year where everything went wrong. Yuzuru had skipped the Gala at Nationals for his surgery. He had found out when he got out of the hospital that Tatsuki had retired. It had been one more of a series of emotional and physical blows for Yuzuru. He was too numb and exhausted to process it.  
He admired Tatsuki, enjoyed competing with him. They had shared the experience of the Olympic Games in Sochi.

Slowly, Yuzuru was left with no one who had shared that experience with him. Daisuke had retired, ending an era as he did. Akiko had retired, Tatsuki, now Mao and Kanako. It made Yuzuru feel strange. He had a few skaters around who were his age, but Ryuju and Keiji weren't always around at the same events as him, they couldn’t always relate to him. Shoma had risen to be the kind of competitor Yuzuru had been waiting for - someone from home, a friend, someone who could challenge him, relate to him. But it felt they were part of different eras.

They were in a transition period. Shoma was part of a new generation that would rise in and after the Olympic season when a lot of the older skaters would retire or start to run out of steam and drop away from the top of the field. Yuzuru was an outlier, the middle child. He had the experience of an older skater, but enough youth on his side to not need to consider retirement his only option after Pyeongchang. He knew that by this time next year, many were people he had been skating with over the years would be leaving competitions.

He was aware that Misha was going to retire after Worlds, unable to continue with the demands of competing due to injuries and age. He knew next season would likely be the last for Patrick, and possibly for Javier too. The thought squirmed uncomfortably inside him. He didn't know what Patrick's plans were, but he knew Javier wanted to coach, and would probably return to Spain once he retired.

The idea of training in Toronto without Javier made Yuzuru feel oddly hollow. He would still have friends in the club, and he would have Brian, but for almost five years training alongside Javier had been his life.

Yuzuru felt a little childish for how little thought he had given what he would do once his competitive career came to its inevitable end. He knew he wanted to skate professionally, but details of what he would do just weren't there yet. He hadn't planned that far. He intended to go to a second Olympic games, hoped to win a second gold medal, but what would happen after that was a grey area. It was something he would decide when the time came. All he knew was that right now he still had a goal ahead of him. He needed to focus on that goal. He couldn’t spare a thought for what would come afterwards.

Yuzuru looked at the time. Almost midnight. His conversation with Kanako had lulled somewhat. He had calmed her, empathised, and brought back her smile. He assured her that her choice was for all the right reasons. He should answer the call to sleep, ensure he was well rested for practice. Instead, he broached a new subject, wanting to shift some at the weight from his mind.

“Have you talked to Miki?”

Kanako gave him a look. “I was waiting for you to ask me about that.”

Yuzuru shifted guiltily but said nothing. He was curious; he wanted to know what Miki was saying about her and Javier’s relationship coming to an end. Javier might have said he didn’t tell her about the incident in France, but that didn’t necessarily assure him that the whole thing wasn’t his fault, or that Miki wasn’t hurt. The last thing Yuzuru had wanted was for Miki to be hurt because he couldn’t move on.

Kanako sighed. “Yes, I’ve talked to her.”

“And?”

“She needed to rant for a while, but she’s fine.” Kanako shrugged.

“Did she say why they broke up?” Yuzuru asked, trying not to sound too invested in the answer but ultimately failing.

“It sounds like there were a few reasons, but mostly they just kind of fizzled out.” Kanako narrowed her eyes, tilting her head at Yuzuru curiously. “Javi didn’t tell you?”

“He just said there were a lot of reasons.” Yuzuru hesitated, letting out a stilted breath. He knew Kanako had spent time with Javier and Miki as a couple, and some of her contempt for him had cooled as a result. She may have accepted that Javier was not an entirely awful person, but she was still far from being his biggest fan. He knew she wouldn’t be thrilled with what he was about to say. “He said I was a factor. In their decision to break up. Or at least his decision.”

“This fucking guy.” Kanako rolled her eyes. “Why would he say that?”  
Yuzuru chewed the inside of his cheek. A flicker of suspicion settled on Kanako’s face. “Did something happen?”  
Yuzuru thinned his lips and nodded.  
“Did you--” her eyes widened. Yuzuru could see the anger building inside of her. “Did he cheat on Miki?”

“No!”

He told her about the Grand Prix final, but he skirted around certain details. She didn’t need to know that they had almost kissed, or that Yuzuru had been the instigator. The important part was where they had talked; Yuzuru had clumsily let Javier know he still felt something, and Javier had been distressed at his own feelings straying away from Miki. Kanako listened with an unhappy grimace, not quite judging but obviously displeased.

“Well, he didn’t tell her anything about that as far as I know,” Kanako grumbled. “Miki never mentioned you but…”

“But?”

Kanako looked steadily more uncomfortable. “She did say that she thought Javi was interested in someone else.”

Yuzuru felt nauseous. He had been aware, to an extent, that Javier and Miki had occasionally clashed over how he would become distant around competitions, sometimes completely dropping all communication with her. Yuzuru had always been torn between empathising with her frustration with Javier, and feeling like she should be more understanding given that she knew what it was like during the season. She knew when they started dating that Javier would constantly be travelling whenever he wasn’t in Toronto, that their relationship would be a balancing act of limited free time and long-distance communication.

They hadn’t always had a problem, but as time passed Javier seemed to put less effort into seeing and speaking to Miki regularly, and Miki became a little more insecure. Kanako told him that Miki began to feel that Javier, while he cared for her a lot, just wasn’t as emotionally invested in the relationship as she needed him to be. Once she realised that, they slowly fell apart.

“She understood skating had to take precedence,” Kanako said flatly. “But it seemed like quite a few things took priority over her. She could see he was trying, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was holding on to someone else.”

That had been a slow poison to their relationship, it seemed. Miki wanted to feel secure, to know they had a future, for the sake of her daughter. In that respect, Javier just couldn’t give her what she wanted.

“He still wants to be friends with her,” Yuzuru told Kanako. “He still wants to be part of her life.”

“They could probably manage that,” Kanako replies thoughtfully. “Miki doesn’t seem to have any hard feelings about it. She’s just a bit disappointed they couldn’t work it out.”

“Do you think she suspects…” Yuzuru trailed off awkwardly, not entirely sure what Miki would think of him.

“Maybe.” Kanako screwed up her mouth. “It’s not like she never noticed how awkward you got around her after she started dating him.”

Shame curled in the pit of Yuzuru’s stomach. “What if she blames me-?”

“Honestly, Yuzu, you’d have to talk to her about it to know,” Kanako said with a shake of her head. “You might not be close to her, but she wouldn’t go around suggesting that kind of thing to people, especially not without any evidence, not even to me.”

Yuzuru smiled weakly despite the punch of guilt that little fact brought him. Miki owed him nothing, and he had wronged her whether she knew it or not, but she still had the instinct to protect him. She still wanted to respect his privacy not spread any rumours about him even amongst friends. Anything she suspected of him was being kept firmly to herself.  
Afterall, she knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of media scorn and public disapproval, to lose federation support and sponsorship. She knew what it was like to have people gossip behind her back and have the way everyone treated her change overnight. Miki wouldn’t wish that on anyone, never mind inflict that on them.

“What are you going to do now?” Kanako asked, a little edgy.

“He wants to talk.” Yuzuru rubbed his eyes a little. They were starting to hurt. He needed to sleep. “I’m holding it off until the season has ended. I don’t want to go into World’s with my head all messed up, and I need time to think.”

“What are you going to say?”

Yuzuru sighed.“He needs to know that he hurt me. And I want to know what he was thinking at the time.”

“I think that talk is way overdue,” Kanako said dryly. “But, Yuzu, please, don’t let him rebound with you. You are worth more than being his little toy to play with between girlfriends.”

“I won’t,” Yuzuru looked at her grimly. “I can’t. It’s not that easy.”

It was almost amusing, how horribly complicated Yuzuru’s previously barren love-life had become. He knew it wasn’t the best thing to do. He knew he needed to address what was going on, untangle his thoughts and figure out what he was going to do. But he just wanted to lay down, put his pillow over his head, and pretend it all wasn’t happening.  
He almost wanted to just ride it out and see what would happen without making any kind of decisions himself. He wondered how long he could get away with that for before it bit him in the ass. He figured the two months or so he was going allow himself to think things over and see how things would progress was reasonable. He would deal with it. He would talk with Javier and make a decision about what to do. Just not yet.

In practice, at least, things were normal. It was some relief that he could just carry on with everyday life without the uncertainty in his relationship with Javier causing Yuzuru a headache. Javier knew he needed time and space, and understood, so was giving that to him. They both needed to focus, they both needed the comfort of their routine. Javier’s morning coffee, Yuzuru’s encouraging applause for jump attempts, extended hands to pick each other up from falls and light tickles under ribs as they took short breaks; it was all familiar, safe, reassuring.

  
Yuzuru was a little worried about how his relationship with Shoma would change: if they would become awkward with each other now they had stated an interest in each other. He was hopeful but questioned about how they would progress from that point.  
Yuzuru got his assurance fairly quickly.

Shoma had never video called him before, preferring to send messages, so it was a little surprising when the app started to jingle as Yuzuru did his morning email check.

Shoma looked sleepy. He was obviously in bed, lay on his side, head on his pillow, with his laptop probably balanced in front of him on the mattress. His room was dark, so the image of him was grainy, and Shoma was just about illuminated from the computer screen. His hair looked fluffy, his eyes open but slightly unfocused; he greeted Yuzuru with a dozy looking smile. Yuzuru wasn’t paying as much attention to his face as he maybe should.  
Shoma was not wearing a shirt. Yuzuru found this mildly distracting. It wasn't as if there was much of his body on display, but the line of his neck, the curve of his shoulder, the sweep of collarbone was there for Yuzuru to see uninterrupted by any kind of clothing.

They had shared locker rooms, undressed and redressed in each other’s presence before. But at competitions and galas and ice shows Yuzuru was too busy trying to get in or out of his costumes to really pay attention to anyone else. Any bare skin of Shoma’s he had seen before was strictly from the corner of his eye.  
Shoma had nice shoulders, Yuzuru thought blankly. The shoulder he could see was smooth and round. He could imagine touching it, feeling the slope and the softness of skin.

Yuzuru forced his eyes to focus on Shoma’s face on the screen and smiled. “Hey. Why aren’t you sleeping? You look tired.”

“I saw that you were online. Thought I’d say hi,” Shoma said, his voice was thicker than usual. “I finished Asian Winter Games today.”

“Oh!” Yuzuru had completely forgotten about the games. He knew Shoma had a few events before Worlds but was unsure of the dates. He felt stupid for not remembering. “How was it?”

“It was okay,” Shoma said, smothering a yawn. “I wasn’t sure if we were still bragging to each other about medals since you’re not doing anything until Worlds. I forgot to take a picture anyway.”

Yuzuru grinned. He had enjoyed their exchange of photographs through the first half of the season. “Of course we’re still doing that. It’s our thing. How did you do?”

“I got gold,” Shoma replied casually as if it were nothing, but the smile on his face belied the tone of his voice.

Yuzuru clapped his hands cutely, beaming at him. “I’m proud of you.”

Shoma blushed a little, nuzzling his face against his pillow. Yuzuru was overcome with how incredibly cute that was. He wished he could reach through the screen and pat Shoma’s hair until he fell asleep. He was very familiar with Shoma’s sleepy state since he constantly seemed to be tired to some capacity, but it was entirely different to see him warm and comfortable in bed, on the edge of sleep. He looked softer. Yuzuru felt a tug, like an invisible rope pulling him through the screen. He wanted to curl up next to Shoma, feel the warm weight of his body, and hold him as he dreamed.  
Even though they had gotten closer, Shoma still had some defences up whenever they spoke - everyone had some - but it was as if all the walls were down. He was too tired to hide anything or put up and front. Yuzuru liked it.

“I made a few mistakes though,” Shoma murmured. “I think maybe Boyang should’ve won, but I’m happy. I’ll work harder at the next competition.”

“You always work hard,” Yuzuru smiles, carefully unplugging his laptop. Shoma made a small, confused sound as Yuzuru lifted it, carrying it from the desk to his bed. He set it down near his pillows and lay down in front of it in the same way he imagined Shoma was.

“What are you doing?” Shoma asked groggily. Yuzuru giggled, the confused furrow in Shoma’s brow was utterly endearing.

“Now it’s like I’m lay with you,” Yuzuru said, propping himself up a little with his elbow. “You look so comfy, I got jealous.”

Shoma bit his lip and smiled, shifting a little for maximum comfort. Yuzuru’s focus drifted away from his face as more of his shoulders came into frame. “Isn’t it morning there?”

“Yeah. I need to head out for practice soon, but I have time for you.” Yuzuru glanced at the clock. He wasn’t in a rush, but if he did end up showing up for practice late, he figured it was worth it.

Shoma smothered another yawn, nose wrinkling. “I just wanted to talk to you before I went to sleep. I won’t keep you too long.”

“It’s no problem,” Yuzuru said lightly. He studied Shoma’s face for a moment. It had been only a week since Shoma had confessed to him. There was some comfort in that they hadn’t left things completely ambiguous before they left Korea; they had ensured some level of mutual understanding. But still, Yuzuru felt a little unsure of where they stood with each other. His voice grew gentler, quieter, as he spoke. “Are you good?”

Shoma hummed, nodding his head slowly. His eyes were half lidded, but Yuzuru could still see the warmth in them. “I’m good. I’m better now I’ve seen you.” Shoma forced his eyes to open a little more, head burrowing into his pillow. “How about you? Are you good?”

“Yeah,” Yuzuru replied. “I’m still a bit…” he waved his hand in front of his face, struggling to find the right word. Confused? Unsure?

“It’s okay, there’s no rush.” Shoma shrugged the shoulder that wasn’t pressed against the bed. Yuzuru’s eyes followed the motion. “Nothing’s changed. You just know how I feel now. You like talking to me, right?”

“Of course I do,” Yuzuru told him fondly.

“Then let’s just carry on enjoying talking to each other,” Shoma said, shifting again and rubbing his cheek against his pillow. “It’s not a big deal. You’re fun, and I like you. I know you just want to be sure before anything changes. I want to be sure too.”

It was a big deal. At least it was to Yuzuru, but he appreciated that Shoma wasn’t putting any pressure on him. He felt a rush of affection for Shoma right then. Shoma’s confession served more to just make sure Yuzuru was informed so they could move forwards together with an awareness of each other, openness and honesty between them. It wasn’t as straightforward for Yuzuru as he would maybe like, but it was easy. They wouldn’t accelerate their relationship until they were both ready.

“You have another competition before Worlds, right?”

Shoma yawned behind his hand, his round eyes blinking at the screen in the aftermath as he tries to get his brain working again. “Yeah, in Europe.”

“Call me after that one too,” Yuzuru urged. “I want to see all your medals.”

Shoma chuckled and nodded. “I will.”

“Go to sleep,” Yuzuru said, taking in the way Shoma's eyes would periodically slide shut and snap open in a struggle to stay awake. He wished he could just stay like this, pretending to lie next to Shoma and watch him fall asleep. “I can message you later.”

Shoma nodded. “Have a nice day at practice.”

“I will. Sleep well.” Yuzuru paused for a moment. He didn’t want to hold anything back with Shoma. He figured that if there was something he wanted to say, he should say it, and hope Shoma would do the same. He censored himself too much with Javier, held back too much. He didn’t want to repeat those mistakes. “I’m glad you called.”

***

Yuzuru felt focused. Motivated. Driven.  
Brian insisted that they needed to train smart, avoid injuries, not overtrain. Yuzuru actually agreed. He wanted to train more and make sure he was ready for the last competition. He thought about the mistakes at four continents, how close he had been to winning. This was the level they were competing at now - a single mistake could be the difference between winning at losing at Worlds. One fall, one popped jump, could spell the end. Every point would count, every element would count. Yuzuru wanted to win.

He trained to his limit - until sweat dripped from his skin and his body ached. He ran through his programs one after the other; just the steps, then the steps and spins, then the complete program. When he fell, he took care to make sure his body fell to absorb the impact. When he popped a jump, he practised different ways he could claw back the points, like he had in Gangneung. When he had a clean run through, he’d take a break, catch his breath, and go through the choreography again.

He pushed himself. He tried to perfect his glide during stroking exercises; tried to spin faster, tighter, more centred; tried to jump higher, straighter, with stronger landings.

He saw his efforts reflected in Javier. The odd competitive dynamic of their friendship came into play. It had always been the case that seeing Yuzuru’s tendency to never waste any of his time in on the ice gave Javier the kick to get himself going. Laziness had never truly been Javier’s problem, though he was definitely a bit more relaxed about his training sessions than Yuzuru. The real problem that often manifested as a lack of motivation to train was a stunning lack of confidence. Brian had done a lot to break Javier out of the mindset that he was somehow just not good enough, but Yuzuru’s presence seemed to help too. After all, Javier held Yuzuru in high regard as a competitor, as well as a friend, and Yuzuru had chosen to train in the same rink with the same coach. He couldn’t be all that bad after all.

It had been a long process, to stop Javier from feeling like he was inferior, unskilled, and had somehow got into his current situation through luck. It had taken a long time for Javier to stop feeling that there was no point in fully applying himself, that he would fail anyway and it would be all the more disappointing when he did because he had been fool enough to try.

He lapsed sometimes and would find it hard to get himself out of bed on time or to break through the wall of apathy that stopped him from pushing himself.  
It was a comfort, in a way, to see Javier steely-eyed, tight-jawed, practising his quads with a furious determination, pushing himself to get more speed in his spins. It was a good sign.

“I worry,” Yuzuru told him as they took a short break to recuperate before they went back out to push themselves even further. “That maybe you have bad thoughts.”

Hearing Javier’s fears of falling behind, the insecurity he had in his own skills and hard work, had stuck with Yuzuru. He wondered if Javier had shared those concerns with Brian, he assumed he had. But he still wanted to help. He still wanted to give his support.

“I’m okay,” Javier said, trying to look confidence despite his voice being unsure. “It’s hard. I’m supposed to be the one being chased, but I feel like I’m at the back of the pack.”

“Being chased is no fun anyway.” Yuzuru shrugged, smirking a little. He knew Javier, he knew he liked being a bit of an underdog and proving everyone wrong. “You are sneak attack. You’re not behind, just saving best performance for best time.”

Javier grinned, and Yuzuru could tell that this time it was a genuine smile. “You bet I am.”

“Just don’t let personal things upset you.” Yuzuru paused. For a moment he remembered what Shoma had told him once when his personal life was leaking onto the ice and threatening to pull him down. “Leave bad things in locker room. Don’t take bad feelings to ice.”

Javier ruffled Yuzuru’s hair, chuckling. “I’ll remember that.” He let his hand fall back to his side, leaving Yuzuru’s hair alone. Javier let out a deep sigh and took a mouthful of his water. “Actually, I think breaking up with Miki helped. It’s one less thing I’m worried about. It’s done.”

Yuzuru doesn’t really understand that. His only experience of a relationship falling apart was with Javier, and it had felt like being turned inside out and thrown against a wall. He couldn’t imagine how an almost two-year long relationship could come to an end without both people coming out of it struggling to adjust.

“That’s good.” Yuzuru reached out and gave Javier’s arm a gentle squeeze without really thinking about it. “I still cheer for you every time.”

Javier chuckled. “I know you do.” He leaned in closer to Yuzuru’s ear and whispered. “You’re really, really loud.”

The benefit of having trained together for so long, competed together, done ice shows together and having spent time with each other away from the ice was they could read each other to a certain extent. Yuzuru knew the signs that Javier was going under as much as Brian could, but unlike Brian, Yuzuru wasn’t trying to keep track of several people's’ physical and mental condition.  
Javier could also see the signs in Yuzuru that he was stressed, his focus becoming too-focused, too intense, too blinkered. He took the initiative the try to break it.

“I’m so scared I going to fail,” Yuzuru confessed, staring at the placards of achievements on the wall.

Javier put his hands on Yuzuru’s shoulders, rubbing them carefully, rolling over knots of tension to release it. “Any secret injuries this year?”

“No,” Yuzuru gusted, one eye screwing closed as Javier dug his thumbs into a knot at the base of his neck. “No injuries.”

“Then you can do it.” Javier gentled his little massage, the rhythmic squeezing more to soothe than for anything else. He didn’t want to accidentally cause any damage, and Yuzuru had Kikuchi to help his body recover from his training sessions. “You work hard, you can do it.”

Yuzuru looked back at him with a cheeky smirk. “You want me to beat you?”

“No. But you know that you can.” Javier loosened his grip on Yuzuru’s shoulders, looping his arms around them in a loose hug instead. Yuzuru naturally leant back against his chest, the action unconscious, so familiar neither of them really thought about it anymore. Javier turned his face to Yuzuru as he spoke. “I just want to do my best. I want you to do your best too.”

Yuzuru looked back up at the wall, chewing his lip. “What if my best is already behind me?”

Javier gave him a rather dismissive look. “Your best isn’t behind you.”

“I’ve not skated clean once all season,” Yuzuru pointed out rather glumly. The glory of the previous him hung over him and evaded him. He was still chasing his past self. It was frustrating, and it made anxiety curl tight in Yuzuru’s chest.

“That’s what you need now?” Javier asked, rocking Yuzuru slightly in his arms. “You need to always be perfect? That’s not realistic, Yuzu.”

“I need to do better than I have been.” Yuzuru lowered his chin, his mouth downturned. “I want to overcome myself. That’s all.”  
“You’ve had some good performance. It’s not been all bad,” Javier said, voice bordering on a whine. “You challenged yourself this year. It’ll pay off.”

Yuzuru almost laughed. That was the sort of thing he told Javier whenever he was hitting a low.

“I know that,” Yuzuru said. He knew that at some point the hard work would pay off, in one way or another, but he was getting impatient to see some results.

“Yuzu, you’re not in the position you were in last year--”

“Last year I set all high scores,” Yuzuru said petulantly.

“Last year you were going to Worlds with a broken foot and high anxiety,” Javier said patiently. “You’re fit, you're not injured. You’re doing good with your anxiety--”

“You’re right. I’m better this year.”

Last year he had been half way between overconfidence and incredible, debilitating pressure. He had been hiding an injury and hoping that if he ignored the pain, it would just go away. He had learned the hard way that sometimes you just had to ask for help and face the facts. He didn’t entirely regret his actions last year, as much as the result displeased him, but it was a bitter lesson to watch Javier have his own problems, but end up winning because he had the sense to go and get medical attention. The problem was that Yuzuru tended to pick up ankle sprains or other injuries that couldn’t be immediately dealt with in competition. He always knew that if he went to the medical staff, they’d just tell him to withdraw. There wasn’t much point.

“How about your brain?” Yuzuru asked, twisting back to look at Javier. “Is still okay?”

“I’m feeling a lot better.”

Yuzuru shot him a doubtful look. “I know when Javi is stressed.”

“Of course I’m stressed,” Javier said, tickling Yuzuru’s sides. “I have to fight you off.”

“You have to look after your mental too,” Yuzuru admonished, squirming. “I like watching you skate your best, hate seeing you fall.”

“I hate seeing you fall too.” Javier pulled Yuzuru closer, resting his chin on top of Yuzuru’s shoulder. “I really do hope your dreams come true, Yuzu.”

Yuzuru returned the sentiment with all of his heart. It was normal for them now to support each other despite Javi defending the world title and Yuzuru desperately wanting it back. Yuzuru remembered when this dynamic was still developing, the wonderment he felt in being able to both want to beat Javier and see him do well, skate his best, have some glory.

They had slightly different dreams. Yuzuru was the one the grand plans to win two Olympic golds in the hopes of being regarded on par with his idols. Of course, that dream had somewhat expanded, matured along the way as he had. He dreamed of more than just results now, but also the process of achieving them. He dreamed of achieving high quality in every aspect of skating and delivering performances that were artistically beautiful as well as being technically challenging. He dreamed of skating complete, the perfect marriage of the two sides of the sport, the perfect fusion between the two approaches he had been exposed to in his childhood heroes. The elegance, beauty, entertainment and style of Johnny Weir and the technical power of Plushenko. More than that, he wanted his skating to be distinct, to have its own unique flavour.  
Javier’s dreams had grown slowly with his confidence and his ability to get results. He wanted to be an inspiration to skaters in his home country, to encourage more Spanish people to engage with and love skating. In so many ways, Yuzuru thought he had already achieved that.

They headed to the World Championships; Javier defending his title, wanting to make it a three-time streak, wanting to carry the title proudly into his final Olympic games and Yuzuru, wanting to win it from him. Both still cheering for the other.

They were both aware that audiences tended to see Yuzuru as the favourite to win. Yuzuru didn’t mind that, despite the pressure it brought, and Javier didn’t mind because it meant the pressure wasn’t entirely on him. But it wasn’t a two horse race. The rise of Boyang, Shoma and Nathan put more pressure on both of them. Yuzuru was aware of the hype surrounding Nathan and honestly felt bad for him. He couldn’t imagine of at seventeen and his first year at the senior World Championships his home country had expected him to take gold.  
Yuzuru had, of course, taken bronze. And that had been achievement enough.

The edge of fear Yuzuru had, of failing to bring the season to a close with the clean performances he wanted, acted as a good motivator to push him forwards. Yuzuru couldn’t slack off if he wanted to reach his goals.He had learned from the previous year's mistakes, put them to practice all season and was now going to his first World Championships completely injury free. Yuzuru was in perfect condition to get his revenge.

Shoma, it seemed, was also trying to put some lessons he learned from Boston to practice.

Yuzuru beamed at his laptop screen as a somewhat blurry looking Shoma displayed a slightly blurry looking trophy.

“Why do you do so many little competitions?” Yuzuru asked, once Shoma had sufficiently bragged and Yuzuru had sufficiently applauded him. “You’re crazy.”

“I feel less nervous if I do more competitions.” Shoma shrugged, face coming back into the frame once he had put his trophy away. As adorable as Shoma had been in their last video call, tucked into bed and half-asleep, it was definitely a lot better to see him bright-eyed and awake with a time difference that wasn’t quite so punishing. “And I’m already in Europe now, so I won’t be super jet lagged at Worlds.”

Yuzuru smiled. Shoma’s body just didn’t adapt well to moving through time zones no matter how much he slept on his flights. He had suffered last year in Boston and was determined to not have that problem again.

“Do you know where Worlds is?” Yuzuru teased. He watched as Shoma thinned his lips, looking away from his screen in embarrassment. Yuzuru laughed loudly. “Sho! I’m gonna tell Keiji you don’t know what country you’re going to.” He shook his head fondly. Shoma looked back at his screen with a bashful kind of smile. “Do you know where you are now?”

“Does it matter?” Shoma joked, wrinkling his nose.

Shoma was in Luxembourg for Coupe Du Printemps, a little warm-up for Worlds. There was enough time between the two for him to not be burned out but close enough that the result would help him go to Helsinki with a feeling of momentum. Shoma, Yuzuru thought just a little impressed, had gained quite a bit of momentum through the season. He might have fallen on his quad loop attempt, but he had managed to score over three hundred at this competition. That was a very nice victory to be taking to the World championships.

“You are _hopeless_ ,” Yuzuru chuckled, resting his chin on his hand, leaning on his desk. “If I could I would drag you around Helsinki myself.”

“Maybe if you asked me nicely I would go with you,” Shoma replied with a coy smile. “You wouldn’t have to drag me.”

Yuzuru pushed his glasses back up his nose. “If it’s just the two of us, right?”

“Maybe.” Shoma’s cheeks were a touch pink, but the look in his eyes was playful.

“I’d have to think about where to take you,” Yuzuru mused. He had been to Finland a few times, he liked it there. He had good memories of Finland. He hoped to make more. It had, however, been quite some time since Yuzuru had visited, and a fair deal of time since he felt comfortable going sight-seeing around a competition location. “It 'd be good to see the city with you.”

“You’d do that?” Shoma asked, not joking anymore, sounding a little surprised. “Go around the city with me, I mean.”

“Yeah. I don’t get to do that much.” Yuzuru knew what he was suggesting with that. He wanted to confirm that he did, indeed, mean just the two of them “I’d enjoy going somewhere with you.”

“So,” Shoma said slowly. “Going on dates is something you’re interested in?”

“Sure.” Yuzuru shrugged. He actually liked that Shoma had decided he wanted that laid out clearly, leaving nothing to interpretation. “I like spending time with you. How can we figure things out if we never spend time alone together?”

“I guess there isn’t really a difference between hanging out and going on a date other than intention,” Shoma murmured. Yuzuru is reminded of the last time he had gone around a city with someone, with Javier. Yuzuru had intended for their evening in Barcelona to be a date, but Javier’s intention had been different. Yuzuru supposed it was important to make sure their perspectives matched.

“Right?” Yuzuru smiled, hoping to make Shoma feel comfortable in their conversation again. “We can just do casual things. You don’t have to think of it as a date if you don’t want to.”

“I want to.”

Yuzuru felt his face heat up. He hadn’t quite expected Shoma to be so direct, but he couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy it. It was incredibly refreshing.

“I want to go slow,” Yuzuru said, wanting to make his position clear. Shoma deserved as much. “I have things I need to think about, but that doesn’t mean we can’t do anything.”

“I get it,” Shoma said impassively, his facial expression not changing at all. “I want to be sure we can work as a thing before we...officially become a thing too. I mean it. There’s no rush.”

“But, if you want something, I want you to ask me, okay?” Yuzuru urged. “And I’ll ask you too.”

Shoma tilted his head curiously. “If I want something like what?”

“Anything,” Yuzuru said empathetically.

Shoma’s eyes seemed to be staring right down his webcam lens. He looked like an innocent puppy. Yuzuru was a little envious of how large and round Shoma’s double-lidded eyes were.

“A hug?” Shoma asked sweetly.

Yuzuru nodded enthusiastically. “I’ll always give you a hug if you want one.”

“A kiss?”

“You can ask for one if you want it.” Yuzuru was certain his face was as red or redder than Shoma’s. His eyes automatically dropped from Shoma’s eyes to his mouth. He wished the video stream was a bit more high-definition.

Shoma’s expression turned mischievous, his lips pulling into a smirk. “How about a million dollars?”

Yuzuru honked out a laugh. “I can’t give you that, unfortunately.”

 

One week.  
  
One week until they would be boarding a plane and flying to Helsinki. Desperation clawed at Yuzuru. He wanted to win. But more than that, so much more than that, he wanted to feel the rush of satisfaction and achievement he had gotten from a perfect skate. No popped jumps, no falls, no hands down or step outs. Just smooth, controlled skating, how it should be performed; displaying the hard work of his coaching team, showcasing the work of his choreographers, complimenting the music the way he envisioned whenever he ran through in practice.

The cracks were starting to show. Brian had begun to tell Yuzuru with increasing frequency to slow down, take a break, switch to stroking - anything to stop him from getting too locked-on and obsessive with whatever little detail was bothering him.  
Javier was also showing the signs of pressure, in the way he did. He started showing up late, dawdling at the side of the rink, tying and re-tying his laces of his boots three or four times before starting his practice.

It had been Javier who took the initiative to do something about it, to try to break the bubble of anxiety that was rising in both of them.

They talked about where they liked to go to relax, to quieten their minds. Yuzuru thought of the summer when he couldn’t skate and needed to stop himself from drowning in the anxiety his injury brought him. He told Javier about the parks with the trees, the stillness of empty woodland areas, the softness of grass and the solid weight of live wood against his back, the whisper of wind through leaves. Javier talked about the coast, of heading out to the beach at night or on a rainy day when the beach would be empty, and he could listen to the crash of the waves as the tide pulled in, watch a thunderstorm roll in over the horizon. Javier, of course, preferred to go to the beach when it wasn’t raining, and he could soak up the heat of the sun, cool off in the water, play soccer on the sand.

Yuzuru didn’t really see the appeal in beaches. Also, they were in Canada. It was March, the weather was still wintery, to their mutual dismay.

Javier’s compromise was finding a nearby park that would have trees and water - in the form of a small lake, or a large pond.

The trees were still barren. The park was close enough to a main road that you could hear the rush of passing traffic more than the soft breath of wind passing through trees. Though Yuzuru figured the sound of distant traffic was close enough to the sound of waves. If you didn’t pay attention close attention.

“This park isn’t pretty,” Yuzuru said flatly as they walked around the large pond. The ducks had all migrated to somewhere warmer and hadn’t returned yet. Yuzuru didn’t blame them.

Javier didn’t take Yuzuru’s lack of enthusiasm personally, sounding about as impressed as Yuzuru was. “None of them are in winter.”

“It’s _March_ ,” Yuzuru grumbled, “Should be Spring already.”

“You’ve been living in Canada how long now?” Javier teased. Yuzuru elbowed him in the ribs lightly.

They sat on a bench beside the water. Yuzuru looked out at in a little disappointed.  
“We came here for lake, but it’s frozen.”

“Think we could skate on it?” Javier joked. The ice was far too thin for that.

Yuzuru smirked. “It be funny to see Javi try jump and go through ice.”

Javier pretended to pout. “You’re mean.”

“You would scream like bird.” Yuzuru mocked the squawk he imagined Javier would make if he fell into the cold water and dissolved into giggles.

They laughed for a while. When the laughter subsided, Yuzuru already felt a lighter than he had before they had come to the park. Maybe they just needed to be outside and take in some fresh air.

Yuzuru shivered, letting out a long breath to see the steam slowly rise up into the air. Javier watched him and scooted closer.

“Are you cold?”

Yuzuru nodded, still looking out over the icy water. On the other side of the lake, he could see a dog proudly trotting with a very large stick. He smiled. “A little.”

Javier put his arm around Yuzuru’s shoulder, but hesitated, not pulling him close. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah.” Yuzuru looked at him quizzically, allowing himself to be pulled into the warmth of Javier’s body. “You never ask before.”

“You said it was a problem,” Javier replied with a half-shrug. “That sometimes I touch you and it makes things hard for you.”

“Yeah.” Yuzuru lay his head drop, using Javier’s shoulder as a pillow and cast his eyes back to the water. “But this is okay.”

“You don’t say when it’s too much,” Javier said after a small silence. “I guess I should be more careful.”

“You just…” Yuzuru huffed, frustrated at how hard to was to phrase what he thought in English. “Sometimes you do things without thinking about my feeling.”

“Yuzuru,” Javier chided, “Sometimes you’re like this and you want to cuddle, and other times you flinch if I touch you. One day you want to be close and the next you’re pulling away.” Yuzuru turned to look up at him. Javier’s eyes seemed to dart over Yuzuru’s features, trying to read him. “I have no idea what you feel.”

Yuzuru sniffed, looking across the park. The icy water, the clump of dead water plants at the side of the pond, the bare branches of trees. “I don’t want to talk about this now,” he said, voice barely a whisper. “We came here to be less stress.”

“You don’t think we’d feel better?” Javier asked, rubbing Yuzuru’s arm to keep him warm.

“I think I will feel worse,” Yuzuru said honestly. “I need to think.”

“About what?”

“About what I say when we talk.”

Javier gave a short, dry laugh. “I guess I should think about that too.”

Javier’s hand dropped from Yuzuru’s elbow to his hand, covering it for a moment. Yuzuru pulled his hand away, slipping it from under Javier’s. It felt too intimate, to hold hands while sat like that. It seemed silly, to allow himself to be enveloped by Javier’s arms, but to not allow Javier to hold his hand, but such boundaries were personal.

It was confusing: where they should draw the line between what kind of touching was okay and what was not. It was a matter of deciphering what sort of affection that had always been the norm for them, and things that weren’t normal. What actions were tied to their friendship, and what was not. They had always put their arms around each other, always hugged, Javier had always liked to ruffle Yuzuru’s hair and tickle his sides. This touching could be allowed. Hand holding was not normal. It could not be allowed.

Yuzuru wanted to be fair. He wanted to be fair to Shoma. But he knew that refusing to allow Javier to touch him at all wouldn't really work for either of them. He had done that before, for a short time, when his heartbreak had been fresh, and he wasn’t sure if he was angry or not. It made both of them mutually miserable.

“This was a stupid idea,” Javier said flatly.

“A little.”

“It’s too cold,” Javier whined childishly. “I hate the cold.”

“You are like baby,” Yuzuru teased, grinning up at him. Javier Fernandez, the figure skater who couldn't handle the cold.

“How about we go to a cafe or something,” Javier suggested hopefully. “I’ll buy you something hot to make up for it.”

“Okay,” Yuzuru nodded, but he didn’t move. He knew as soon as he sat up he would miss the warmth of being pressed against Javier’s side. “But maybe stay like this a little longer.”

“Are you sure?” Javier asked, but he also made no effort to move, instead resuming the slow strokes up and down Yuzuru’s arm.

“You’re comfy.”

“I can be comfy somewhere warm too.”

Yuzuru balked. “Can’t sit like this in cafe.”

“Why not?”

“Too many people.”

Javier bent his head to bring his lips close to Yuzuru’s ear. “This is a public place too,” he whispered, amused. “No one cares.”

“I care.” Yuzuru frowned a little. “You care too.”

“Not as much as I used to,” Javier said lightly, straightening up. Yuzuru was a little thrown by that statement. “But privacy is a little harder for you to have than it is for me.”

Yuzuru's face screwed up, knowing it was true but wanting to deny it anyway. It's not like Javier was a nobody. “Only a little.”

A little reluctantly, Yuzuru sat up straight. It was probably good, that as they headed for the exit of the park, they were not close enough to touch. Maybe it was natural for them to be affectionate to each other, Yuzuru thought, but it was probably something that needed to be restricted, controlled, discussed.

“If you want we can hang out at my place?” Javier offered.

Yuzuru shook his head. That was still a boundary he didn’t want to go close to. “I don’t think so.”

“Effie misses you.”

Yuzuru shot Javier a disgruntled look. “Your cat don’t remember me.”

“Sure she does. She tells me,” Javier leaned closer, pitching his voice higher. “Javi why doesn’t Yuzu come to play anymore?”

Yuzuru rolled his eyes. “And what do you say to her?”

“ _Meow_.”

“You’re stupid.” Yuzuru batted at Javier’s shoulder, unable to hold back a smile. “I’m hungry. You should buy me food _and_ drink.”

“Fine,” Javier said with a long-suffering sigh, but the way he looked at Yuzuru was warm, and he slipped an arm around Yuzuru’s waist. “I’ve missed being with you like this.”

Yuzuru froze. “This is kind of thing I mean,” he said, moving away from Javier. “When I say you do things without thinking about my feeling.”

Javier frowned, bemused. “I shouldn’t say I’ve missed spending time with you?”

“You shouldn’t say things to make me feel guilty,” Yuzuru told him, sharper than before. “You know why we stop things like this.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You really are stupid.” Yuzuru scowled, resuming down the path. “That can be what you think about before we talk.”

“When will that be?”

“I dunno.” Yuzuru shrugged. “Maybe after season finish. So we don’t get distracted.”

  
Javier had to try to figure out Yuzuru’s rules for touching as he made them. The problem was that Yuzuru’s feelings for touch were very conditional. It changed, depending on how recently he had received a message from Shoma or Kanako, which tended to make Yuzuru feel guilty for the most benign of touches. It depended on how far they were into their practice session, how he felt when he woke up that morning, how much privacy he had the night before.  
Sometimes, Yuzuru could accurately assess whether the touch was appropriate or not. Other times he felt too sensitive to it and thought everything was inappropriate. And sometimes he craved the affection, the closeness, the feeling of someone touching his skin - of Javier specifically touching his skin, any skin, anywhere. Sometimes he was restless and wanted more, needed more, but knew he couldn’t get it.  
At least Javier was making some effort to learn the boundaries. At least, Yuzuru thought he was.

He was having a day where he was a little frustrated. A day where his skin felt more sensitive than usual, and he ached to be touched. His rational mind told him to stay away from Javier, but something more primal inside him wanted to press his entire body against him.

Practice was over. One of their last ones before they would leave Toronto. No matter how much Yuzuru did, no matter how many jumps he did, no matter how much he pushed himself he still had the feeling of pent-up energy bubbling under his skin. He tore his tight training shirt over his head. He savoured the rush of cool air on his heated, sweaty skin. He needed that. He would shower when he got home, maybe burn off some of the lingering tension in his body.

“That’s quite a bruise.”

Yuzuru froze, his sweaty t-shirt falling from his hands into his bag. He shrugged. Any bruises he had were nothing he had never picked up before. Bruises were a part of life.

He almost reached for his clean t-shirt when he felt the warmth of Javier’s hand on his hip. The touch was barely there, the absolute softest of caresses, but it was there, and it sent a jolt through him.

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” Yuzuru rasped. “I didn’t know it was there.”

“Huh,” Javier’s voice was low and very, very close. Yuzuru couldn’t breathe. His skin felt hot all over. “It must look worse than it is.”

Yuzuru’s throat felt dry. He closed his eyes and thought about leaning into the touch.

He would lean back, his back meeting Javier’s chest, feeling the warmth of a body he once knew but hadn’t felt in a long time. His hand would slip forwards, no longer lightly tracing the bruise on his back, but cupping his hip bone. The tips of his fingers would brush above the waistband of Yuzuru’s training pants. He would feel Javier’s breath against his neck, let his head fall to the side. Yuzuru would shudder, and Javier would pull him closer.  
Lips on his neck. Yuzuru would melt into it, give in.

Yuzuru would turn his head to face Javier - as much as he could. Enough so their noses could brush and their lips could touch.  
It wouldn’t be soft or gentle when they kissed. There would be no slow build up, not light touch, no patience. All of Yuzuru’s pain, confusion, desire from the past two years would flood out of him in the form of a kiss more hot and needy and immediate than anything Yuzuru had ever experienced before. The tension would break, the dam would burst, and his restraint would disintegrate.

It would be a thrill like no other, a relief, to kiss Javier again; to press himself back against Javier and feel hands run over his abdomen. One hand would stray up to his chest, the other would stroke at Yuzuru’s hip bone, teasing beneath his navel, barely dipping under his waistband. He would arch his back, cant his hips, roll his ass back against Javier gasp into his mouth. Yuzuru wanted, needed, to be kissed and touched and taken. He would do all he could to wordlessly beg for it.

Yuzuru’s hand would hit the lockers to stop himself from falling forwards. He’d feel the fingertips teasing his skin, the hot breath and tug of teeth at his neck, the body pressed against his, and want more. He would reach back, claw at Javier’s thigh and let out a soft moan as Javier finally, finally, slipped his hand beneath the waistband, beneath his underwear. Yuzuru would gasp, as that hand would stroke him. He would feel the pleasure of being touched, of rolling his hips back and feeling Javier through their clothing, hearing the way that Javier’s breath would catch in the back of his throat.

Yuzuru opened his eyes, staring at the locker in front of him. He reached back and grabbed Javier’s wrist, gently pushing the hand off his bruised hip. The fantasy was little more than a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity. Yuzuru’s skin crawled with shame.  
Shoma. He had promised Shoma he’d think about it. He had told Shoma they could go on dates and figure things out together, flirted with Shoma and joked about kisses, lay in bed and pretended to be lay next to him.

Giving in to Javier in any small way would be a disgusting betrayal of Shoma’s trust. There was little so precious to Yuzuru than the relationship that had budded between him and Shoma. He didn’t want to kill it before he even gave it a chance to bloom.  
He thought of the smile that had spread on Shoma’s face when Yuzuru had been happy at his shy confession. Yuzuru couldn’t think of anything as pure as that. He wanted to protect it.

“Ah, too much?” Javier asked, withdrawing his hand, taking a large step back.

Yuzuru threw on a clean t-shirt hastily. He felt too hot, restless. He needed to leave. He needed to go home and stand under the spray of a luke-warm shower until his body calmed down. “Yes. Too much.”

“Sorry, I didn’t think.”

Yuzuru doesn’t exactly believe that Javier didn’t know, that touching the bare skin on his hip was crossing a line. They needed boundaries. That was certainly beyond them. Even with Yuzuru constantly changing the rules, he would have thought Javier would know that.

The problem was, it was far too easy to think of Javier sexually, and the sapling of a relationship he had with Shoma was far, far, far away from even coming close to that kind of development. He struggled to even imagine kissing Shoma, he still wasn't entirely sure if his liking of Shoma was purely platonic or romantic or what.

But he knew Javier’s body. He knew how Javier looked naked, hard, skin flushed with arousal. He knew how it felt to kiss Javier, touch him. He knew how good it felt to have Javier inside of him, the sounds he made as he came, how it felt to have Javier sleepy and sated pressing lazily kisses against his shoulder. He had been young, skinnier, less sure of himself and over-eager. He could imagine how much better it would be now, with a stronger body and better stamina and less shame when it came to asking for what he wanted. Yuzuru was familiar with the feeling of lust when it came to Javier, familiar with linking his sexuality with Javier’s body.  
Not that he was the only guy Yuzuru ever thought of.

Yuzuru was still restless after his shower. He lay on his bed, rolling onto his side. His hand curled against his pillow, remembering the first time Shoma had video called him. He thought of the sweetness of his sleepy face.  
He thought of the curve of his bare shoulder.

Yuzuru wanted to talk, to just unload on someone and verbalise the complete mess in his head in the hopes it would help in making some sense of it. But he had no one. Kanako might have been his safest option, but he couldn’t tell her about Shoma. Not when they trained in the same rink, not with how close they were. He had no idea what her reaction would be, but he couldn’t imagine her being thrilled that he was starting something with a boy she saw as a little brother, who she saw grow up since he was in elementary school. He couldn’t talk to Brian because they would both rather die than talk about Yuzuru’s personal life and Brian had to be able to look at Javier. He couldn't tell Keiji or Ryuju. He couldn’t talk to his mother or Tracy. There was not a single person he could think of that would be okay with hearing about Yuzuru’s dilemma without either, or both of them, crumbling under crushing embarrassment.

Yuzuru rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

Hilariously, the only thing he could think of that would make him feel marginally better was talking to Shoma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I didn't proof read this chapter very well because I just wanted the writing to end. I'm on my vacation from work so had all the free time to just write all day.
> 
> Yuzu is very horny. poor zuzu.
> 
> please leave comments as i am very ??????????????? about this chapter


	14. Elation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helsinki was a rollercoaster. Yuzuru has no idea who he was riding it with.

**Elation**

Yuzuru had felt good as he was driven away from the airport and the swarm of various media and the fans who had gathered to greet him as he landed in Helsinki. It had been startling, to arrive to a crowd but it was something he had came to expect. Even if the _number_ of people who would go to airports to offer their support as soon as he arrived at a competition city always surprised him.

Yuzuru had grown used to the attention he tended to attract; not so much that it went to his head or he took his support for granted, but enough that he could cope with it at times like this. He still had plenty of time where he could walk down streets ignored; when he could be alone and his time belonged to only him - to share with whoever he wanted and spent however he pleased. But when he stepped off a plane to go to an event he had to be 'on'. Still himself, but not just ‘Yuzu'; he had to be Yuzuru Hanyu: the best version of himself, the hope of Tohoku, the Ice Prince of Japan.

He had forced himself to hide his tiredness and the disorientation that followed a long flight. He smiled and thanked fans and the media alike for their support. He promised to work hard, to try his best. After all, he was in good condition. This year he had to win. He had no reason not to, no excuse, nothing holding him back.

But still, tension bubbled beneath his skin. There was an uneasy feeling that made him want to find a quiet place to be silent and still for a while but sparked an excess of kinetic energy in him. He needed to talk quickly, he was eager to get started with practices so he could burn off some of the nervousness that buzzed from the tips of his fingers down to his toes. He needed to turn that feeling into focus, rather than just holding it back, feeling as if he might burst.

 

“Hey, you got here first.”

Yuzuru looked up at Keiji, spotting Shoma a little behind him, and smiled. “I’ve not been here long.”

Keiji sat next to Yuzuru. Shoma hovered for a moment and nodded his head in an awkward greeting before sitting down beside Keiji. Yuzuru and Shoma’s eyes met behind Keiji’s head.  
‘Hi,’ Yuzuru silently mouthed at Shoma. Keiji looked at the papers he had brought with him, going over the details of the event schedule, shoulders hunched forwards making it all the easier for Yuzuru and Shoma to greet each other behind his back.

Shoma mouthed back his own hello and grinned. His eyes looked bright and alert; the initial awkwardness seemed to thaw instantly. It got easier every time they spoke. Shoma tended to need a chance to warm up to people, to get comfortable in social situations. It seemed every time he talked to Yuzuru it took less and less time for him to get comfortable.

Keiji sat up straight with a tired groan.  
“I’m still out of it from the flight,” Keiji complained. “I’m glad we’ve got a couple of days ‘til the short.”

Yuzuru hummed in agreement, leaning forwards to look over at Shoma. “Are you tired?”

Shoma shook his head. “Not this time.”

Keiji nodded sagely. “Shoma has effectively avoided jet lag.”

“I think this is my first time seeing you _not_ sleepy,” Yuzuru joked. Shoma stuck out his tongue. Yuzuru bit his own, grinning. He never forgot how cute Shoma was but that didn’t mean he never got caught by how endearing he found him.

Keiji eyed the table at the front of the hall, where the organisers were checking the microphones and shuffling through papers to make sure everything was ready. The room was steadily filling with all the other skaters, their coaches and the media covering the event.

Keiji narrowed his eyes at the little bag where they would pick their starting order from. “What do you not want to draw?”

“First,” Yuzuru said quickly. He didn’t typically mind skating first, at least compared to second or fourth which felt like unlucky spots to him, but he didn’t want to be first in his group this time.

“Directly after Yuzu,” Shoma said flatly. Keiji snorted.

Yuzuru pouted, “Why?”

“The Poohs,” Shoma said, completely straight-faced. Yuzuru’s lips twitched. “It’s stressful to dodge all the stuffed toys. I almost got brained by a Pooh bear at Four Continents.”

“Death by bear,” Keiji said solemnly. Yuzuru had to bite his lip to not laugh.

“What an obituary,” Yuzuru smirked. “Shoma Uno, tragically killed by stuffed toy.”

Shoma giggled, completely adorable, his nose wrinkling. “Would you mourn me?”

“For _years_ ,” Keiji said with a chuckle.

Yuzuru nodded, trying to keep his face serious. “I could never look Pooh in the eyes again.”

Yuzuru was first to be called up to draw his number. He almost laughed when he looked down at his number, pulling a face at Shoma and Keiji as he made his way back to his seat. He would skate first in the final group. Typical.  
Shoma went up to draw next and Keiji shook with silent laughter. Second in the group, right after Yuzuru.

“We jinxed ourselves,” Yuzuru joked, leaning forwards to talk over Keiji. He didn’t see the way Keiji pursed his lips, thoroughly unimpressed at being relegated to a third wheel.

Shoma grinned, not too upset to have gotten exactly what he hadn’t wanted. “At least I’ll get to watch some of your skate before I get blungend by bears.”

Yuzuru laughed. “If that happens, I will dig your lifeless body out from the Pooh pile and deliver you to your family.”

***

There were three days of practice. Three days to make sure Yuzuru was ready. Every time he thought about it, he felt his breath quiver out of him. He had an image in his mind of a perfect performance, and he wanted that image to come to life on the ice.

The first day of practice wasn’t too bad. He liked walking down to the underground practice rink, the atmosphere of the cave, but he was anxious to have more time on the main rink. Still, he could find it in himself to mimic Brian at the boards while the girls finished their practice session. He laughed with Javier and Misha in the warm-up room as they played around with the exercise balls. He still had it in him to walk up to the bus with Keiji and Shoma, catching Shoma’s wrist as he tripped, both of them turning coy as their hands brushed but neither pulling away. Keiji eyed them but said nothing.

But as the second practice wore on, Yuzuru started to feel frustrated. His jumps weren’t landing as cleanly as he wanted, his run-throughs weren’t smooth. He drew his focus in, running through the image of what he wanted over and over, becoming quieter, brows furrowing as he ran through his off-ice routine. He had to miss the evening practice. His lungs were sensitive and temperamental after an asthma attack before arriving in Helsinki. Brian had been watching him cautiously, as he coughed through a warm up and finished wheezing, taking a precautionary puff from his inhaler.   
It didn't lower his expectations of himself. He had lived his whole life with wheeze breaths and dry, wracking coughs. He got this far regardless. It couldn't be an excuse. He just had to work harder, try harder, cope.

Routine was important.   
Yuzuru took to the centre of the ice feeling edgy. He hadn’t done his rituals correctly. They had ended up all muddled and in the wrong order. He had to gesture to Kikuchi to bring the Pooh to the boards after it had been taken away too soon, he had shaken Brian’s hand and crossed his axis but hadn’t knelt and hit the boards. He had squeeze Pooh’s head, but he hadn’t done things in the right order. It made him feel off.

He put it aside. It couldn’t matter. He had to perform.  
He started well. He felt good as he exited the loop, pointing at the crowd with a little smile as he moved through the steps that linked to the next element. Butterflies in his stomach, he lined up for the salchow. He needed to get it right; he needed to land it clean just this once-  
His left leg hit the ice. He mentally cursed, struggling to take a toe-loop to the end so he at least still met the requirements for a combination. He knew he had lost points. He knew his grade of execution would be in the toilet, and the whole jump could be invalidated.

A desperate feeling clawed at him, a frantic need to throw everything he had at every element he had left to the program. He exited the spin and poured that wild energy into the choreography. The program needed to feel like a rock concert to work and right now he needed all the points in his second mark he could get. He mouthed along to the words, he engaged his whole body, sent flirty glances to the crowd and tried to muster up as much confidence as he could in the glances he shot at the judges. He threw himself into his axel and kicked his leg high on the exit; he exploded in the step sequence. The damage was done. He couldn’t claw points back in the short the same way he could in the free, but he could make sure he got the maximum in as many areas as possible. He hit his final pose and leg out a breath. His throat felt tight.

Maybe, just maybe, he had done enough. At least to secure a score around 100 - something he could work with, something that would give him a somewhat decent placement.  
He lowered his eyes as he skated towards the edge of the rink. The disappointment settled on his shoulders like a heavy cloak. A single mistake, but there was no room for single mistakes anymore.  
98.39. Yuzuru closed his eyes and let out a breath.

“What’s the deduction for?” Brian asked, confused.

Yuzuru pulled a face, tilting his head. Hell if he knew what the deduction was for. He knew the combination jump would be invalidated because of the shift of weight onto the left leg, but he didn’t think they’d give him a deduction for it.  
He couldn’t speak. He felt like if he tried, his voice would crack and the tears would come.

He had just scored over Nathan, but behind Boyang, and there were five more left to skate. Yuzuru knew he didn’t stand a chance. He kept his interviews short, clipped, not wanting to talk. He watched the remaining skaters silently. The emotional tug of Shoma’s violin music, the flowing lines he created on the ice. He was beautiful to watch in every way. Yuzuru felt the performance - the ache of longing in every note of the music and movement of Shoma’s body.  
A new personal-best for him. Yuzuru was proud, happy for him, but his stomach tied in knots.

“Maybe don’t watch the others,” Kikuchi told him gently.

Yuzuru shook his head. “I need to know how hard it will be in the free.”

Yuzuru could tell as soon as Javier took his starting position his mind was in the right place, his nerves were controlled, and he was about to give his best. He cut across the ice, strong and powerful. He jumped and it left Yuzuru breathless to watch him, from takeoff to landing as if it were easy. Little more than a single point away from Yuzuru’s highest score. Yuzuru was happy Javier had brought himself out of the low mood he had slumped to in France, but it cut deep that Yuzuru wasn’t reaching that high with him. Instead, Yuzuru felt like he was the one sinking.

  
Back in the hotel, Yuzuru let himself feel the real depth of his regret.  
Yuzuru drew his knees up to his chest and narrowed his eyes, watching in slow motion the moment he took off for the salchow, the moment he landed, the free leg coming down, the shift of weight onto that leg.

He had watched the full performance, full speed and half speed, a few times now. Seeing what the crowd had seen, what the judges had seen, what the people watching on tv and computers had seen. It wasn't good; it wasn't what he wanted. The were moments he looked rushed as if he had fallen out of time with the music and was desperately trying to catch up. He hadn’t engaged with the crowd the way he should have; he hadn’t committed to the program the way he needed to. He looked too desperate. He didn’t have the confidence and attitude he needed for the program; he was pretending, forcing it. It wasn’t enough.

A fresh wave of disappointment and misery washed over him. His eyes stung. He was unlikely to be able to sleep properly; the mistakes of the short would reply in his mind long after he decided to quit watching the performance.

All season he had been chasing his own shadow, trying to deliver the clean performances of before, trying to overcome his best skating of last year. He had failed. He had failed to reach those heights at NHK, at the Grand Prix Final; he had come close but failed again at Four Continents. He had wanted Worlds in Helsinki to be his revenge for Boston. Last year he had a serious injury and managed to pull through his short program, almost meet his best score. This year he was healthy, free of pain, free of injury, but he had failed.

He had thought he could handle the increased difficulty of his programs, the faster choreography in the short program and the rich complexity of both programs’ choreography. He thought he could elevate his skills further, weave the technical elements into the program completely, so every jump melted into transitions, every element perfectly timed to the music. Now he had to face the horrible possibility that he had been wrong, that next season he would have to reduce that complexity to bring programs down to the level he was really at, not the level he wanted to be.  
It was a bitter thought to have, and it made his insides feel like stone.

He jolted at the sound of a sharp knock on his door. Part of him wanted to ignore whoever it was, but he couldn’t risk it. He doubted it would be Brian or Tracy since they had said all they needed to earlier. It wouldn’t be his mother since she had visited him earlier and gracefully left with nothing more than a suggestion he should sleep it off.  
Shoma had messaged him not long after Yuzuru had left the shower and settled on the bed to wallow in his failure, asking if Yuzuru wanted someone to talk to. It had been a nice offer, but Yuzuru mostly just wanted to be alone.  
It wasn’t Shoma. Of course. Shoma was kind enough to ask ahead and actually listen to Yuzuru’s response.

Yuzuru only opened the door halfway, but that was enough for Javier to slip through. Yuzuru closed the door after him with a resigned sigh. He didn’t mind Javier being there, but he didn’t think he had the emotional energy to deal with everything that Javier typically brought with him.

“I knew you’d be watching it,” Javier said flatly, casting his eyes to the laptop on Yuzuru’s bed.

“Need to learn from mistake. To not do again.” Yuzuru shuffled past Javier, closing the laptop and setting it aside, hastily smoothing over the bedcovers. He looked at Javier with tired eyes. “Congratulations.”

Javier shook his head, closing the space between them and immediately pulling Yuzuru into a tight hug. “You don’t need to congratulate me.”

“Of course I do,” Yuzuru mumbled. “You skate well. I’m happy for you.”

Javier shook his head again, and Yuzuru slowly let go of the pretence. He wasn’t bitter that Javier had done so well, but he wasn’t happy. Yuzuru had been chasing his own image from last season, but so had everyone else. Javier had come closer to that image than anybody. He not only beat Yuzuru today but had caught up with the Yuzuru of last year. It was difficult to take, no matter how much Yuzuru wanted to see Javier succeed.

He let Javier urge him onto the bed, not sitting, but lay together in the centre. Javier lay on his back, loosely holding onto Yuzuru’s waist. Yuzuru rolled onto his side, body fully bracketing Javier’s, head finding a home on his shoulder. He had wanted to be alone, but now Javier was here Yuzuru just wanted to be close to him. He could feel Javier’s thumb stroking at his hip through the soft, worn cotton of his t-shirt.

“You made one mistake, that’s all,” Javier told him, body tilting towards Yuzuru slightly as he brought his left hand to pet at Yuzuru’s hair.

Yuzuru sniffed, shifting closer as if he were burrowing into Javier’s body. His throat felt dry. His voice sounded rough, broken. “One mistake too many.”

“At least you tried to combination and didn’t get the whole jump invalidated,” Javier said. It was true. The toe-loop had been invalid, but if Yuzuru hadn’t tried it, he wouldn’t have gotten any points for the attempt at all. He had saved himself six points at least. That fact didn’t wash away the bitter feeling.

“I got a deduction for late start.” Yuzuru closed his eyes. Brian had told him they needed to reduce his reliance on rituals, told him that they needed to get used to Pooh not being stuck to the boards. They brought him comfort, Pooh brought him comfort, but it had blown up in his face. It was the stupidest deduction he had ever gotten, and he was furious at himself for it. A one point deduction for wasting too much time trying to squeeze a stuffed toy.

Javier clucked his tongue softly. “That won’t happen again.”

Yuzuru supposed he was right. That was a mistake he wouldn’t make again. It was something he could easily avoid. “Ninety-eight--”

“Is a good score!” Javier said indignantly.

“Not good enough.” Yuzuru felt the lump in his throat return. He tried to breathe but it came more like an agitated hiccup “I’m fifth place. I’ve lost. It’s over.”

“Funny. I don’t remember doing the free.” Javier’s hand wandered from Yuzuru’s hair to cup his cheek, urging him to look up. Javier’s eyes were soft and sympathetic. “It’s not over.”

Yuzuru looked down. “I can’t recover from fifth.”

“I remember when you went from seventh to third,” Javier said lightly. He let go of Yuzuru’s cheek, squeezing his shoulder instead. “At your first Worlds. Do you remember?”

“I remember,” Yuzuru said thickly. “Short was bad because I hurt ankle. Today nothing hurt, no injury, no reason for me to fail but I fail anyway.”

Javier sighed. “You didn’t fail.”

“I really wanted a clean skate,” Yuzuru said hollowly.

“You have another chance for a clean skate,” Javier told him lightly. “You have the free.”

Yuzuru almost wanted to laugh. Of course he had the free, but that was a longer program that was just as, if not more, demanding than the short. He had more chances in the free to compensate if something went wrong, but more opportunities to pop or fall as well. The jump that had been his Achilles heel all season was still there, ready to knock him down again. He could do it, he could land it, he could complete it clean but every single competition he froze up and made a mistake in one way or another.

Javier seemed to sense his doubt and shook his shoulder lightly. “You’ve done it clean in practice, right?”

Yuzuru grunted. “Yeah.”

“More than once?” Javier tilted his head, looking at Yuzuru pointedly.

Yuzuru thinned his lips, getting his point. “Yeah.”

“You’ve practised a lot, right?” Javier asked. Yuzuru nodded against his shoulder, looking up at Javier through his lashes. Javier offered an encouraging little smile. “Trust yourself, Yuzu. You’ve worked hard, trained hard. Trust your training.”

Yuzuru grimaced. “You sound just like Brian.”

Javier chuckled. “Is Brian wrong?”

“No.” Yuzuru was reluctant to admit it, but he knew it wasn’t a problem with his body. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t trained enough, or that it was too challenging and out of the grasp of his abilities. At the start of the season it had been little more than nervousness approaching any jump that used his left foot, then it slowly developed into a more solid metal block. He had convinced himself he couldn’t do the jump right in competition, that he had to be cautious doing it. It was like a self-fulfilling prophecy, the more he went into the salchow thinking how he needed to avoid doing it wrong, he did it wrong. He would tense up and miss the rotation.

“Just put the short behind you. It’s done, there’s nothing you can do,” Javier urged. “Just try for the free.”

“I can’t beat you,” Yuzuru said in a small voice. He could try his hardest, do his best, but the way he saw it right now the game was lost. The best he could do was try to get silver. He didn’t like aiming for second place.

“Maybe. Maybe not. That depends on me.” Javier shrugged. “Don’t think about the scores too much. Just try to do a good performance. The results will come.”

Yuzuru smiled. He usually disliked when Javier started sounding less like a helpful teammate and more like another coach. But now he didn’t mind so much. Javier should have been off somewhere else, celebrating a victory in the short and preparing for the free. Instead, he was with Yuzuru, trying to get him in the right frame of mind to fight.

“I guess you’re not at the back of the pack,” Yuzuru mused, remembering Javier’s fears. “I chase you now.” Yuzuru lifted his chin, looking into Javier’s eyes as he raised a challenge. “Run fast.”

“This is the Yuzu I’m used to.” Javier grinned. “Let’s run fast together, yeah?”

Yuzuru settled, doubt still swirled in his gut. He could act to Javier as if he felt better, but the truth was... he had no idea how to fight from where he was. He didn't know if skating his planned layout, even if he managed to get it clean, would be enough. He wasn’t sure he had the energy to do it if the best he could hope for was silver.  
He had been so focused on his goals - on winning this World championship, of going into next season with all the experience and confidence he needed to achieve his dreams. All of a sudden it felt like his goal slipped out of view, fell from his fingertips. Gone. Out of reach. It made no sense. He was healthy; he had made so much progress, his relationship with Brian and Tracy was the best it had ever been. All the pieces were there. He had everything he could need. Why wasn’t the puzzle coming together?

He supposed it would be enough to catch his former self and finally get out of his own shadow. Maybe he couldn’t do it for the short, and he wouldn’t do it for combined score, but if he could get out of the shadow of last year’s free program, avenge how terrible it had been in Boston, it would be enough. That was something he just focus on, with gold medals feeling out of reach. Just one clean skate. He wasn’t sure how much faith he had to believe he could do that. Win or lose. One clean performance.  
He let out a long breath, closing his eyes, focusing on the slow rub of Javier’s right hand on his hip.

“It’s late,” Javier said quietly, perhaps thinking Yuzuru was falling asleep. “You should sleep.”

Yuzuru didn’t move. He numbly wondered if it was over the boundaries to be lay on the bed together like this. He thought that maybe it _should_ be too much, to curl up with his head on Javier’s shoulder and hands on his chest. He tried to imagine being like this with any other friend, but it was impossible. Then again, things with Javier had always been different. They had always touched more than Yuzuru touched anyone else, had always fallen into physical closeness more easily than any friend Yuzuru had ever had in his life. That was who Javier had always been. That was who Yuzuru was when he was with Javier.

The lines between who they were as friends and who they had been as lovers were too blurred to know what was safe and what was too much. They were always in a grey area. There had been more definitive lines while Javier had been with Miki, but it seemed those lines got smudged out too.  
Sometimes that grey area was what Yuzuru needed. The area of intimacy that was beyond the usual boundaries of simple friendship, but not wandering directly into the danger zone. Yuzuru needed the comfort of that closeness. He took a deep breath, taking in the familiar scent of Javier’s skin, the soap he used and whatever he washed his clothes with. It settled some of the storm inside of him. Maybe not enough to lift him from his depression, but enough to quieten his mind and make sleep a possibility.

Javier’s fingertips gently stroked behind Yuzuru’s ear. He smoothed down the hair there, lightly brushing at sensitive skin. It made Yuzuru’s hand clench against Javier’s chest and his breath quicken.

“Do you want me to stay with you?” Javier asked.

Yuzuru considered for a moment. He considered what Javier was really asking him - did he want Javier to stay the whole night with him? The question hung in the air, with all the implications of what it could mean.  
  
Yuzuru’s voice was rough and forced. “No.”

Javier’s hand moved from Yuzuru’s hip to his waist, holding in a light grip. “Then I’ll leave when you tell me to.”

Silence yawned between them, Javier waiting to be told to leave, Yuzuru chewing over what Javier had meant in asking that question.

“If I asked to to stay all night, would you?” Yuzuru looked up at Javier through his lashes, biting his lip unconsciously.

“Yes?” Javier looked confused. “Is that what you want?”

Yuzuru knew he could ask Javier to stay. He knew that if he wanted to, he could hold Javier all night until they fell asleep, and wake up with him in the morning.  
Yuzuru knew that he would not be rejected if he lifted his head and pressed his lips to Javier’s. Last time the only thing stopping them was Miki, now that obstacle was gone. Javier wouldn’t push him away and tell him no; Yuzuru knew that if he kissed Javier now, his mouth would go soft and he would kiss back. It was something he wished he was not so sure of, but he knew it. He could so easily throw a leg over Javier’s hip, roll on top of him, kiss him until the cold and empty feeling of disappointment and dejection was replaced by something hotter.  
If he wanted to, he could kiss Javier to distract himself from the sense of failure; press him down against the bed and feel the steady warmth of his touch. He knew that if he wanted to, Javier would let Yuzuru slowly unwrap him, lean down to taste his skin.  
Yuzuru knew that he would watch as Yuzuru stripped himself, replicate whatever Yuzuru had done to him and press his lips to Yuzuru’s neck and chest and navel. Yuzuru knew the way Javier would look at him as he peeled off his clothes because he felt that gaze on his body whenever he practised back in Toronto, in changing rooms, in the hallways of event venues once Yuzuru had slipped into the tight purple fabric of his short program costume. He felt the way Javier’s eyes would sweep over him, clinging at the shape of his thigh and the curve of his ass. Yuzuru knew that if he wanted he could feel Javier’s hands there instead, skin against skin. If Yuzuru wanted, he could touch Javier, feel his body rise and take him inside. He could abandon the reality that was making him so miserable and take temporary refuge in harsh breaths, desperate kisses, the sound of two bodies meeting and searing pleasure. He could use Javier to make himself feel good for a moment, make himself feel better.

It wouldn’t last. Once the sweat on his skin dried and the thrill of sex faded, Yuzuru would be left feeling infinitely, immeasurably worse. His position wouldn’t change, the chances of him bouncing back would not get any higher. He would have the added strain of guilt and the heavy dread of having to tell Shoma he had failed to respect his feelings. He would have to carry the shame of it through the rest of the week. The rest of his life.

“You shouldn’t stay.” Yuzuru shook his head, closing his eyes. His fingers curled next to Javier’s collarbone. “But don’t leave yet.”

Javier didn’t understand. Yuzuru didn’t blame him. But Javier stayed and held him anyway.  
Yuzuru listened to his breaths, felt the rise and fall of his chest beneath his hand. He felt the tension slowly seep out of him.  
Then Javier pressed his lips to Yuzuru’s forehead. And Yuzuru knew that he had to draw the line.

***

If Yuzuru had thought he could sleep it off, he was wrong. He woke feeling heavy, switching off the alarm on his phone wanting desperately to just stay in bed. He wished he wasn’t in a hotel room, wished he wasn’t in Helsinki in the middle of a competition. For the first time, Yuzuru felt truly defeated. Part of him just wanted to give up and go home.  
He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Too many people depended on him and too much rode on his at least trying in the free skate. If he gave up this one competition - even if in just some small, internal way - he might as well give up his entire career.

Yuzuru huffed a breath and hauled himself out of bed. He hadn’t given up when his home rink cracked beneath his feet and crumbled around him. He hadn’t given up when his body was battered, bruised, broken over and over. He hadn’t given up when the pain in his foot made it impossible to think and the mortality of his career loomed over him.  
Giving up was not in his nature. It wasn’t an option.  
He wondered if the steady burn of self-directed anger and the lingering sorrow of failing to meet his own expectations would be enough to fuel him.

Practice was not what he wanted.  
Yuzuru could tell Brian was worried, could see the concern etched into Tracy’s face too. There had been an odd tension all the way through breakfast as Yuzuru had poked at his food with him mother periodically rubbing his back and Brian using his most gentle tone to try to coax Yuzuru out of his dark mood.

“Yuzuru, you don’t need my advice right now,” Brian told him before practice, voice soft. “You need your own advice. You need to get back to the way you usually think about these things.”

Yuzuru chewed his lip and nodded. His usual way of thinking after failure; that mistakes are steps to improving. That the next practice, the next event, was an opportunity to put the lessons of a failure into practice. He didn’t particularly think he was an optimist so much as it was more pragmatic to treat mistakes as neither staying still or a step backwards, but an important part of the journey forwards. Progress never happened without errors along the way.  
  
Still, he couldn’t shake the icy curl of dread when he lined up for his salchow. It felt less like an opportunity to get it right and more like throwing himself into an inevitable failure. He popped it.

Yuzuru had wanted just one good practice and he hadn’t gotten it. His run-through was riddled with mistakes. His energy dropped with every single one.  
He would have another chance, in the evening. Another practice, another run-through. Then his time would be up. Frustrated tears burned his eyes. He was trying. He had been training every day, as hard as he could. Why was he falling apart?

Yuzuru sat down in a cafeteria. The schedule for the rest of the day was straightforward enough: eat lunch, rest and rehabilitation, off-ice warm-up, then the evening practice. Then back to the hotel to sleep. He closed his eyes, leaning his head on the table. He just wanted the day to end.

He heard to drag of a chair being pulled out beside him, but no clatter of food being put on the table. Brian had gone with Tracy to get Yuzuru’s food and their own lunch. Their meal would double as a meeting, a little debrief of the practice they had just done and what they would do later. Yuzuru suspected there would be a small intervention to try to stop him from completely falling apart and throwing the free skate. He knew at some point Javier would be joining them, but he was fairly sure that whoever had sat beside him was neither Tracy or Brian or Javier. He cracked open an eye and looked up at Shoma, keeping his head firmly on the table.  
Shoma smiled at him weakly. Yuzuru sat up.

“There’s something I want to show you.” Shoma licked his lip nervously, hastily unlocking his phone and pushing it towards Yuzuru. “I don’t know if it will make you feel better but…”

Yuzuru looked down at the phone and quickly looked away. He pushed it back toward Shoma. “I don’t want to look at what people are saying on social media-”  
Yuzuru wasn’t an idiot, and he wasn’t a stranger to how cruel people could be when they were online. Even if there were no cruelty in the comments Shoma would show him, Yuzuru didn’t need to see the pity or disappointment of fans.

“It’s not bad!” Shoma tapped his thumb against the screen rapidly and held it out for Yuzuru to see. “You should look. Fans made a tag for you.”

“What?” Yuzuru peered at the screen. Hundreds of messages with a few shared tags in both English and Japanese. Yuzuru felt a small lump rise in his throat.

“See?” Shoma slowly scrolled through, showing the sheer number of messages. “There’s loads of people supporting you.”

Yuzuru felt his lip quiver. “I disappointed them.”

“You didn’t,” Shoma shook his head, starting to sound a little desperate. “Most are just sad that you are disappointed in yourself and want to see you happy.”  
He forced the phone into Yuzuru’s hand, urging him to actually read the messages being posted. It seemed fans were still sending their thoughts, the number of new posts growing as Shoma spoke. “--Or, at least from what I can read. There’s lots of Japanese but look!” Shoma tapped to refresh the feed. “So much English.”

Yuzuru looked up, away from the screen, and met Shoma’s eyes for a moment. They seemed to shine with sincerity right from the depths of them. It made Yuzuru feel weak. Shoma cleared his throat. “People from all over care about you.”

Yuzuru looked back down, reading through some of the messages. They weren’t voices or disappointed fans, or messages of pity, but little scraps of love and hope and faith. From heartfelt attempts to reassure and lift his spirits, to upbeat expressions of support.  
Shoma spoke again, with a warmth that left Yuzuru feeling breathless. “They believe in you. You didn’t disappoint them.”

Yuzuru looked up at Shoma, knowing his eyes were watery and his cheeks were pink. He wanted to throw his arms around Shoma and bury his face in his neck. “Thank you.”

“People don’t love you just because you win. They love you because you are...you.” Shoma moved closer, his hand hesitantly reaching out to cover Yuzuru’s. He chewed his bottom lip shyly, thumb lightly stroking over Yuzuru’s knuckles.  
“I’m the same,” Shoma said quietly, cheeks turning pink.

Yuzuru felt his whole body flush with a pleasant, tingling warmth. A smile tugged at his lips.

Shoma swallowed harshly. “I want you to be happy too. I believe in you too.”

Yuzuru turned his hand beneath Shoma’s so he could thread their fingers together and tugged so their hands were under the table, where they could hold onto each other with some small piece of privacy. Yuzuru’s heart thudded rapidly in his chest. He had been running low of faith, in motivation - Shoma had come and handed it to him. The swell of affection was overwhelming.

It seemed to hit Yuzuru all at once. All the people he had that supported him, that loved him in so many different ways. All the people he had who cheered him on or tried to cheer him up. He felt dizzy. He tried to never take the support he had for granted, but he had lost sight of it somewhere along the way. Now it was sharp and clear, just how cared for he was. It filled him with a light, a drive to thank all the people behind him, a will to repay them. It didn’t chase away the dark clouds that had hung over him all morning, but it lifted them significantly.

“Sho. I’m really proud of you. For your short,” Yuzuru said, giving Shoma’s hand a light squeeze. He saw how Shoma’s lips twitched, pleased at the little scrap of praise.

“I’m happy I did well,” Shoma murmured. “But I’m sad that you’re upset. I hope after the free we will both be happy.”  
Shoma looked up sharply, his smile suddenly changing to something more guarded, maybe a little embarrassed. Yuzuru followed his gaze and saw Tracy and Brian approaching the table, just a few steps away.  
Shoma seemed to take that as his cue to leave. He took back his phone and kicked back his chair. “I’ll see you at practice later, okay?”

“Okay.” Yuzuru was reluctant to let go of Shoma’s hand. As he stood up, Yuzuru held on, stopping him from zooming off. “Sho, thanks.”

Shoma smiled, fingers lingering as their hands slowly slid apart.

***

Yuzuru took a deep breath and shook Brian’s hand. He knelt at the board, squeezed Pooh’s head and tapped twice.  
The other skaters were still leaving the ice. Brian had been as annoyed by the late start deduction as Yuzuru had been. Today they would take no chances. Yuzuru skated back as the last skater left the ice, crossed his body to check his axis, twisted his waist and took his starting position.

He broke the program into small pieces, little stages, and took each one as it came. He paid attention to every step, every movement, making sure that from the very beginning each detail was fleshed out. He imagined seeing himself from outside of his body - from the perspective of the cameras, from the perspective of the crowd. He imagined what he wanted to do, what he wanted it to look like, and moulded himself into that image. He took off for the loop and landed steady and sure.

Quick and light, he ran through the steps leading to the salchow. Back straight, he landed and moved to the next section. Smooth, flowing, he floated through the step sequence. He remembered working on the choreography with Shae-Lynn over the summer, how she listened to what he wanted and captured it. The memories of his first steps on the ice, the way the air rushed over his skin and the feeling of flying. He found something special to him that shaped and enriched his entire life, a falling star, his destiny. He wanted to share that with everyone.

Straight out of the choreography, he jumps the flip and then melts right back in. This was what he wanted, what was important, what he needed to refine through the season. This was what he had to make clear to Brian, what was so integral to his ideal - a program as a whole, the two sides working in harmony. The jumps stitched seamlessly into the steps, the spins in tandem with the music, the technical and the performance components completely connected, entirely entangled, in balance with each other. The artistry and the technical working together, enhancing each other.

He heard the cheers of the crowd growing steadily louder with each element. He blew out a breath as he came up to the problem section. He could feel every member of the crowd hold their breath, hear them urging in silent prayer to jump, to get it right. He felt the eyes of every fan watching on television or on computers, the ones that had posted messages cheering him on to the internet hoping their faith would somehow reach him. He felt a bubble of hope swell, the energy of so many people wishing, envisioning a perfect jump cracking in the air. He felt it lift him. Salchow. Four rotations. Triple toe. The bubble broke, the crowd roared in complete, pure joy.

He wasn’t nervous or doubtful or desperate. He wasn’t pushing or forcing himself as if the music, the choreography, the program as a whole didn’t quite fit him and he was frantically trying to make it work. He wasn’t chasing the edge of a shadow, weighed down by the past.

Yuzuru was serene, focused, clear in what he had to do. He was the rooted feeling he had felt in the summer, when he had been healing and he would study under the shade of trees, listening to the wind whisper through the leaves. His blades were that wind.  
He launched himself into the air, and against with a light tap, arms coming down. He was leaves fluttering in the sun, the warm summer air, the light tickle of grass at his palm.  
He was the crisp air and the stillness of the park, with Javier’s warmth at his side. He was the hot chocolate they drank afterwards and the bus ride home with Javier’s hand on his knee and his breath fogging with window. He was curled on his side in bed, video calling a half-asleep Shoma. He was holding hands under the table, shy smiles and looking into eyes so dark it was like staring into the night’s sky, searching for stars.

He landed the final jump. The crowd cheered loudly and continued to cheer through his final spin. As he struck his final pose, the crowd rose to his feet. He raised his arm to the air the way he had that first World Championship when he had shot for seventh to third. He hadn’t forgotten how much of a thrill that had been, how he felt he had carried the hope of Sendai on his shoulders and had something to show for it.  
Yuzuru cast his eyes over the crowd. Not a single person was seated. He bowed deeply, thankful.

Yuzuru saw the smiles on his team's’ faces. Kikuchi applauding, beaming with pride. Brian, holding out his arms that way he did whenever Yuzuru performed spectacularly as if he should have expected it. Tracy, smiling, excited and flushed.  
He hugged Brian first, holding onto the back of his jacket tightly. A clean skate. The shadow was finally gone. No matter what scores came out, Yuzuru knew he had finally overcome himself - the self of last year, the self of this year. He had overcome them both.

“Look up there,” Tracy said, pointing up into the crowd. “Your mom is sat up there, can you see her?”

“Yeah,” Yuzuru gusted. His mom was smiling, clapping with the rest of the crowd, tears in her eyes. Yuzuru felt a rush of love and pride. He couldn’t wait, until the competition was over and the media was gone, when he could hold her close and thank her. For everything.

223.20. Yuzuru heard Tracy gasp, heard Brian’s little chuckle. He felt his breath get stolen away for a moment by the number, the tingle in his skin, the prickling in his eyes. He had done it. He had set a new personal-best score. A new record score. He defeated his past self.  
Finally.  
321.59. Yuzuru raised his arms into the air with a cry of relief and victory. He hadn’t won yet, but he had a chance. With a score like that, he had a chance.

“I’m not crying,” Yuzuru said, shaking himself, taking in deep breaths, smiling. Now wasn’t the time for tears.

“I almost am,” Brian joked. He patted Yuzuru’s shoulder as they left the kiss and cry, his face pink and glowing. “Yuzu, I’m so proud of you.”

Jason bounded up to Yuzuru as soon as he slipped into the back room and wrapped him in an enthusiastic hug immediately.

“That was amazing! I’m so happy for you!” Jason gushed, his Japanese accented and a little cutesy. He let Yuzuru go, smiling brightly. Yuzuru giggled, bowing slightly as he gave thanks. Kevin offered his seat with a smile. Mikhail gave a little applause.

“I think no one will beat,” Mikhail said with a shake of his head.

Yuzuru shrugged. “We’ll see.”

It was tense, to watch the rest of the group skate after him, to wait for their scores and see how they fared. Nathan was having a run of bad luck and a bad case of nerves. He seemed disappointed when he came to take Mikhail’s place.

“Your boot is okay?” Yuzuru asked, concerned. “After first jump, you checked blade.”

“It’s okay,” Nathan said, pulling a funny face. “I was scared it was gonna fall off. But it didn’t.”

It was a pity, to have a problem like that at a critical moment. But it was a lesson. It was a lesson Javier had learned at Sochi - to always have backup boots, the make sure boots were broken in correctly, to make sure you weren’t left with no option than to use janky boots at a big competition. It had been a lesson Yuzuru had learned a few times.

It was stressful, but also enjoyable, to watch everyone else perform. Yuzuru found himself enjoying the opportunity, to watch each competitor. To see how they had grown through the season. To truly taste how deep and rich the field really was. It struck Yuzuru harder than it ever had before that right now, at this moment, the sport was reaching a peak. The competition was the fiercest it had possibly ever been, with everyone pushing forwards. It every single person, Yuzuru found something to admire. In Boyang, his lutz, his easy charm and sense of fun. In Patrick, as always, his smooth as silk skating. Yuzuru gave him a high-five as he came into the back room, beaming, catching Boyang’s ever infectious snaggle-toothed grin.  
In Patrick, as always, it was his smooth-as-silk skating. It was a pity that his free program did not go as well as it could have.

Yuzuru leaned forward, elbows pressing into his thighs, and watched Shoma intently. He always liked watching Shoma, he always had. He saw fire in Shoma’s eyes, as he took his starting position and slipped into character. Yuzuru liked seeing how Shoma changed on the ice, from soft and sweet to all heat and sharp movements. There were mistakes, but nothing like last year, no outright falls. His jumps were not perfect, his landings still sometimes making Yuzuru wince, but they had improved, and the skating between was expressive, entrancing.  
Yuzuru realised that Shoma could beat him. Maybe not in the free skate, but overall it was possible. Maybe not by a large margin, but he had a lead in the short program.

“What kind of Worlds in this? This is crazy,” Yuzuru said faintly to Patrick, who nodded rapidly, eyes wide. “Will you go to team trophy?”

“Yeah, are you going?”

“Yeah. I don’t want to,” Yuzuru whined. “It will be so high level. So stressful.”

Patrick blinked as Shoma’s scores came out. Yuzuru let out a small, relieved breath as Shoma took second place. No more than three points difference. Close.

“I do not envy your Nationals,” Patrick joked.

Yuzuru laughed, heart fluttering at the joyful smile on Shoma’s face, but felt tension creep in. Javier was next. And Shoma had sent his message loud and clear: Yuzuru was not the only top skater from Japan. It was exciting, exactly what Yuzuru wanted, but a visceral shock to realise just how much Shoma had grown in a single season. At the start of the season, his free program didn’t seem to really fit him. He grew into it, filling it out more than anyone could have imagined with confident sharpness and charismatic smirks. Yuzuru wondered numbly how to coax that side of Shoma out off the ice.

Boyang clapped cutely as Shoma came in the room. Yuzuru wanted to hold him tight, tell him congratulations. But Shoma was reserved, uncomfortable around the cameras. Yuzuru knew that now was not the time. He would have a chance later, in some private place where Shoma’s smile could be less strained.

Watching Javier was almost heartbreaking. Yuzuru couldn’t help the empathetic twang of pain when Javier fell, and slid right off the podium. It made the realisation that he had won a little bittersweet. The cool rush and the bubbling joy was cut with a distant, second-hand sadness.  
But then Shoma beamed at him, and Yuzuru was helpless to return it.

***

Yuzuru was stunned. And happy. And grateful. He threw his arms around Javier’s neck and felt the tightness of Javier hugging him as close as possible. He wanted to say sorry, to say thank you, to say he understood a feeling he couldn’t imagine.  
Javier smiled at his graciously and patted the back of his head. “I told you last year. You work hard; you can do it.”

Yuzuru pulled Javier back into a hug. Too overwhelmed to find the right words.

He found them later. After the medal ceremony, after he and Shoma had their traditional wedding pose and were had wrapped up their press conference. Yuzuru saw Javier in the mixed zone, and it just came to him.

Yuzuru ignored the press that Javier was speaking to, slipped the gold medal over his head, and delicately placed it around Javier’s neck before pulling him into a fierce hug.

“It’s your gold too,” Yuzuru mumbled. “I can’t win without Javi.”

The truth. Javier was his motivation, his inspiration. Yuzuru would have fallen apart during training a hundred times if Javier wasn't there to talk him down, he would have given up too soon if he didn't see Javier pushing himself giving Yuzuru the drive to work harder. Yuzuru might have gotten help from a lot of places to get his head right after the short, but he wondered how effective they would have been without Javier holding him. 

Yuzuru thought he knew how Javier was feeling. He, at least, had some reference to guess. But Yuzuru never had to deal with the added sting of finishing off podium. He wanted to say sorry but knew that even the smallest shred of pity was like salt on the wound. He hoped that Javier didn't just see pity in Yuzuru's gesture but instead felt the weight of his respect and admiration for him. The way Yuzuru had felt that from Javier the past two years.

Javier slipped the medal back over Yuzuru’s head and held his shoulders. Sadness and disappointment lingered in his eyes, but his smile was sincere and warm. “You’ve always been my champion, Yuzu.”

Yuzuru almost returned the sentiment, but it hit him what Javier meant when he said that, and the words seemed to stick in his throat.

***

One more performance left.

Yuzuru liked the galas. They were a chance to see the victors of the other disciplines - congratulate them, discuss the elements of their skating he admired. Evgenia had flushed when Yuzuru had praised her performances, her records, her win. He watched during the gala practice as she babbled at Shoma, who seemed relaxed but his polite smile was somewhat marred by a wrinkle of his brow whenever his English comprehension fell short of Evgenia's expectations, or Evgenia's Japanese met its limit. She wasn't a shy girl, just sweet and friendly, a well-earned confidence that certainly helped her in many areas of her life. 

The two were similar in some ways. They both had flourished over the past season, had quickly carved themselves space at the top of the pack after coming up from juniors. They both had qualities Yuzuru wanted to learn; consistency, mental strength, expression. And they both got hilariously flustered whenever Yuzuru told them that.

It was nice to see Shoma talking to her, despite Yuzuru knowing they were familiar last year too. There were a lot more people Shoma was comfortable around this year, compared to the last. He was popular with most of the Russian girls, which didn't surprise Yuzuru in the slightest. It also didn't particularly surprise him that Maia and Alex seemed completely smitten with him. Yuzuru smiled. Shoma had opened up a lot to a lot of people over the year.   
His insides squirmed, though, when he saw Javier trying to help Shoma with the group choreography for the finale. They had been friendly throughout the season, but it made Yuzuru cringe awkwardly to see Shoma double over with laughter as he flustered over forgotten choreography. Javier ruffled his hair and tried to show him again. Maybe it would have been easier if Javier and Shoma had been two separate issues but that just wasn't the case. They knew each other, got along with each other, liked each other. They were all entangled in so many ways; as friends, as teammates, as training mates, as rivals. Yuzuru felt like one wrong step with either of them could blow up in his face in a far larger way that he could have ever anticipated.

He wondered if it could be a good thing that they seemed to like each other. If he told Shoma about his past with Javier, would Shoma understand and be patient? If Yuzuru told Javier about the bud of a relationship with Shoma, would he be understanding and give Yuzururu space and clarity he needed to move forward? 

***

It was probably because Yuzuru had complained at least three times that Keiji and Shoma had played video games without him, that Shoma showed up at Yuzuru’s hotel room with a hopeful kind of smile asking if Yuzuru wanted to hang out. As if they hadn’t spent the evening together already - but even sat amongst friends the banquets were somewhat stuffy. The gala and the banquet had a slightly heavy feeling to them, as what everyone thought would be Misha's last. It was some relief that Misha's final performances in competition had been some of the most beautiful of his career. Yuzuru could only hope that when the time came for him to leave competitions and move on to whatever he would do next, he would be able to leave on the kind of high note Misha had been able to.

Though it had been nice when Shoma had tugged on Yuzuru’s sleeve and told him with a mischievous little grin that he had managed to get some cake. They had knelt on the floor like naughty children, sharing the slice of cake as if Shoma had stolen it.

It didn’t really matter so much, how long they had spent together already. Yuzuru was happy to let Shoma in. To have time with him alone, when they were both comfortable, and Yuzuru could do what he had wanted to do since the free skate had ended.

“Can I hug you?” Yuzuru asked, once Shoma had settled and they had set up the TV in Yuzuru’s room to play games on. Shoma blinked and nodded his head, looking as if he was puzzled that Yuzuru had asked. Yuzuru pulled Shoma in, closing his eyes as he felt Shoma’s arms loosely wrapped around his waist. It was different, to feel Shoma’s face press against the crook of his neck, instead of them being the same height. Yuzuru rather liked it, feeling a little taller, leaning his cheek against the top of Shoma’s head briefly and feeling the tickle of his soft hair.

  
“I’m so happy. Not just that I won but that you got silver with me,” Yuzuru said softly. He rubbed at Shoma’s back. He might be small, Yuzuru thought, but Shoma was strong, his body was firm and solid under Yuzuru’s hands. Shoma shuddered at the touch and ever-so-slightly pressed himself closer into Yuzuru’s embrace.

Yuzuru felt Shoma’s smile against his neck. “I’m happy too.”

“I thought you were going to beat me.”

Shoma pulled back, straightening to look up at Yuzuru incredulously. “No way.”

“Honestly!” Yuzuru smiled, his fingers itched to brush Shoma’s hair out of his eyes. His fringe was getting a little long, he needed it cut, even if Yuzuru thought his longer, wavy hair was beautiful on him. “Sho, you were amazing.”

Shoma bobbled his head happily, but tried to remain humble despite how pleased he was. “I have to work harder.”

“Me too.” Yuzuru laughed, letting Shoma slip out of his arms and sitting on the edge of the bed. Shoma sat beside him. Yuzuru sifted, putting his hand down beside Shoma’s close enough the if he flexed his little finger the smallest amount they would touch.  
Yuzuru turned towards Shoma with a smile. “Last year you said we’d finish worlds with no injuries and no tears,”

Shoma nodded. “We said we would end the season with smiles,”

“It came true.”

“It did!” Shoma laughed, delighted. Yuzuru felt like his heart did a flip in his chest.

Yuzuru looked down at where their hands rested, side by side. “Let’s promise something for next year too.”

“Next season,” Shoma hummed thoughtfully, wanting to make their promise to each other a good one. “We’ll be next to each other on the podium.”

“Where?” Yuzuru teased. He knew where Shoma was thinking, which event, but he doubted either of them wanted to jinx it.

“Everywhere,” Shoma grinned. “Every competition we do together.”

“Oh, I like that.” Yuzuru realised they had come very close to that this season anyway. As goals went, it wasn’t all that outlandish. “Who is first and who is second?”

“I don’t care,” Shoma said with a shrug of his shoulders. “I just want to be next to you. That’s all.”

Butterflies swirled in Yuzuru’s stomach. Sometimes Shoma had a way of saying something revealing so casually, so carefree and it knocked the air out of Yuzuru every time.  
He raised his hand, extending his pinky to Shoma. Like he had last time. “Promise.”

Shoma linked their fingers together and nodded. “Promise.”  
Instead of just letting go, their hands came together, moving to hold each other as they dropped to their previous spot on the mattress. Yuzuru heard the way Shoma’s breath caught, felt the sparks of weird, happy nervousness that made his throat feel dry and his face feel warm.

He was about to turn, switch on the TV, suggest they start a game to break the tension. But Shoma spoke first. “Can I kiss you?”

Yuzuru’s eyes dropped to Shoma’s mouth, his dark pink lips, slightly parted, a little dry. Yuzuru nodded his head in the smallest way before he really thought it through.

It felt like the right moment. The right time. It felt like cautiously dipping his toes into a deeper relationship with Shoma before they took a bigger step. But Yuzuru knew that in itself it was a step. It was a choice.

It was a choice he thought he had already half-made, back in February, when they had said they would try and see. Now their relationship was shapeless, formless, just a knowledge of feelings and small steps towards something more defined. A kiss was another step, another benchmark, a way to see if this was what they wanted. Of course, that all got turned on its head.  
  
He knew he could change his mind. Knew that, if he wanted, he could tell Shoma he wasn’t ready and needed more time and Shoma would respect that.  
Yuzuru felt torn, between part of him that wanted it, thought it was right - they had talked about this. It was allowed. Shoma and Yuzuru had set the rules with each other.   
But Yuzuru hadn't set the rules with Javier. The rules were always changing.  
  
A kiss was just a kiss. Yuzuru didn’t think he owed anything to Javier - he agreed that they needed to talk, and they did But he had made no promises to _wait_ for Javier. Javier certainly hadn't thought of _him_ , when he threw himself into another relationship without taking some care in bringing their own to a close.    
Besides. A kiss was just a kiss. With Javier, he needed to lay out boundaries of where they should stop, with Shoma it was a journey of seeing where they could go.  
Just a kiss. Yuzuru _wanted_ it.

Yuzuru could tell Shoma was nervous as he shifted his body closer. Yuzuru tried to soothe him, stroking the back of his hand with his thumb. They moved closer in unison, reaching out to each other. Yuzuru touched Shoma’s cheek, featherlight, making his shiver. Shoma gripped at Yuzuru’s shoulder. Their eyes slowly slid shut.  
  
Soft as a breath, Shoma’s lips brushed against Yuzuru’s. Yuzuru shuddered and the pleasant spark it sent shooting down his spine.  
The gentlest pressure, gradually increasing each time their lips met. Each kiss lasting a little longer than the last, bodies drawing a little closer, nervous tension melting away to let pure enjoyment bloom. It was everything soft, save for the slight roughness of Shoma’s perpetually dry lips. Yuzuru found he liked it, and gently took Shoma’s bottom lip between his own.  
  
Kissing Shoma was like sliding into a hot bath after a long day. Like snuggling in a cosy bed in the winter. It was like bathing in sunlight on a spring afternoon. Yuzuru felt warm and calm and _wanted_. Like he could do this for hours and not get bored. It was the blissful feeling of not thinking, just feeling. Just revelling in being close to another person. It was slow and chaste, a little cautious to not push each other. Yuzuru felt Shoma’s fingers curl around the collar of his shirt, the puff of breath at his cheek as they pulled apart, the hint of a smile as their lips brushed again.  
Yuzuru wanted those lips to part for him, to press closer and kiss deeper.

It took until maybe the third, decidedly louder, attempt before Yuzuru realised someone was knocking at the door. Drawing back from Shoma felt like waking up from the depths of sleep, being pulled out of a dream. Everything felt hazy.

The knocking on the door was replaced by the merry jingle of Yuzuru’s phone. Yuzuru looked at where it sat on the bedside cabinet but made no move to get it.

“Oh,” Shoma said as if just realising why they had stopped kissing. His cheeks were beautifully flushed. “It’s probably Keiji. I think he had the same idea as me-”

Yuzuru wrinkled his nose. “Ew, I hope not.”

They stared at each other for a moment and broke into giggles. Shoma ran a hand through his hair. Yuzuru wanted to kiss him again. “I mean, that you might like to hang out.”

Yuzuru grinned, slowly standing up, smoothing out the wrinkle in his clothes as he tried to gather his thoughts. He checked his phone, which had stopped ringing and instead buzzed with an irritated message from Keiji asking where he was, complete with a string of question marks. Yuzuru found he didn’t mind at all that Keiji would be crashing their time alone. It would take away some of the temptation to do something he would maybe regret later. 

  
It would also, maybe, distract from the horrible feeling that Yuzuru had done something wrong. Both Shoma and Javier were in a grey area between friends and lovers. Yuzuru wasn't sure where either one of them belonged. Javier had dated Miki while holding onto feelings for Yuzuru, and Miki had been able to see it. It had hurt her and poisoned their relationship until the love was gone and they fell apart. Yuzuru didn't want that for Shoma. He didn't want Shoma to be hurt. Yuzuru's intention had been to try to figure out if he could give Shoma the love he deserved, and if he thought couldn't he would cut things short before they really started. He was starting to doubt he had done this the right way. The intention had been to keep Javier as a friend until they talked and thought about where they wanted to go from here. Yuzuru was starting to doubt he had done that at all.

Javier was so familiar, so safe while being decidedly not at the same time. He was a touchstone, someone Yuzuru knew would be there at his lowest moments to comfort him, even when he had been the cause of Yuzuru's pain. But then again, so was Shoma. And things were so confusing, so unclear with Javier. Shoma was making it so _easy._  
Slow. He had told Shoma he needed to go slow. Yuzuru's heart and mind definitely held onto that - but his body was restless and needy. He remembered the first time he had kissed Javier properly, the speed at which they were swept away by it, the way Javier had pressed him against the wall and held his waist. He remembered his hands in Javier's hair and his tongue in his mouth. It had been fast. They had panted against each other when they pulled apart and laughed, but didn't speak, save to say they had to leave. It was a mistake, to do things like that. They should've talked. And when they did talk, they should've listened to each other. Everything had been vague, avoiding saying directly what they wanted from each other, avoiding saying what they felt for each other. Their friendship tricked them into believing they understood each other, wanted the same things, felt the same way.   
Yuzuru didn't want to make those mistakes again. Shoma was clear and direct, he asked questions and gave answers. He listened and made sure that when they took a step forwards, they took it together. Maybe Yuzuru's body wanted the rush of Javier, the way they had got so easily caught up in each other. Maybe he wanted to feel that flash of fire. But that fire had burned him before. Whether he would be with Shoma or fall back to Javier, he needed to go slow. Be careful. Be sure. 

Yuzuru couldn't help the way he felt, the way he _thought_ , about Javier. But he hadn't been able to make sense of what his feelings were for a while. Not long ago he thought there was nothing between the two of them, and he was ready to let go and move on. Everything had changed too fast, the world seemingly tilted off axis. Yuzuru had no idea where he stood with anyone. All he knew for certain was that he liked Shoma, liked being around him, and had wanted to kiss him. So he did.  
Javier was on hold until he knew exactly what he had misunderstood the first time around. Until he understood what Javier wanted now. Until they both mutually laid out the two sides of what went wrong, and how they wanted to fix it.

Yuzuru smiled weakly at Shoma and leant down to peck his lips. Selfish.   
Shoma flushed. 

“I’ll go let him in.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I go back to work this week so this fic will slow down. maybe. 
> 
> I love comments <3


	15. Limits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't read it already,[ here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12049425) is a little (lol) companion bonus chapter that sort of goes with this one. It's optional reading but may add a little extra kick to this chapter. It's probably best read before this chapter but it's up to you ^^

**Limits**

There is such a thing as wanting something too much.

The season was, for most skaters, over. For a few, there was World Team Trophy. It wasn’t a particularly serious competition, not the sort of event where individual results were added together for placement; you just had to try to do as well as you could in each program to try to get points for your team.

“Let’s just try our best and enjoy ourselves,” Kana Muramoto had told them all. She was the team captain this time around. “We’ve got a strong team. Let’s support each other and wrap up the season nicely.”

Having missed the opportunity to do a team competition last year because of injury, Yuzuru was pretty happy to be doing it again. Last time it had ended the season on a relatively high note. Yuzuru was hopeful that he would at least be able to have a good time.

Yuzuru tried to focus. He tried to have a clear and crisp image in his mind of what he needed. A clean short program. Yuzuru was desperate for it, and this was his last chance to deliver it. It all seemed to align beautifully; the last opportunity to perform, following his win at World’s and his high score in the free, the anniversary of Prince’s death. A clean short program would be a fitting commemoration of the artist who created the music Yuzuru skated to as well as a victory over a program he had struggled with all season. He had the individual parts of the program all completed well at some point, but never together. He needed all the jumps there, all the spins tight, a performance that burst with energy and confidence.

That was the problem. The success of the program relied so much on Yuzuru’s energy being high and his skating the carry a sense of confidence, flirtatiousness, the feeling of a rock star. He wasn’t feeling all that confident. He was nervous, edgy, desperate. He was unsure of what to do for the next season; the Olympic season. He needed a strong performance, to give him to the certainty he needed to make his choice. He could try a new program, some new music, something special and fresh for the Olympics and hope he could find something that would compliment and contrast his free program sufficiently, that he could skate well and show his best side with while the world was watching. Or he could go back to something he knew worked for him, refresh it, upgrade it, evolve it - knowing the music, knowing that it suited him and brought out his abilities. In one way or another, this last performance would help him commit to his decision.  
It would be nice, to conquer the short program in Japan, in front of a home crowd. Yuzuru liked the idea of that.

When you want something so badly, so much, it can ruin you.

Yuzuru was focused, in a way. Hyper-focused. He shut down. He was nervous. Too nervous. He thought about every element of the program. Overthought.

He popped the loop to a single. He lost control on the landing of his salchow so badly he had to put his hand down to stop his head from striking the ice. It was hard to finish the program with anything close to the level of performance he needed to. There was no salvaging it. The damage was too extensive.  
When the music ended, he cast his eyes to the ceiling and muttered an apology.

“It’s okay,” Tracy told him, trying to soothe him.

Yuzuru screwed up his face as he slipped on his guards. “I was too nervous.”

Yuzuru muttered apologies to each of his team mates. He had let them down. He could see it in the troubled frown on Wakaba’s sweet face, in Mai’s pensive and wobbly smile, in the way Shoma chewed at his bottom lip.  
Seventh place. Yuzuru covered his face with his hands.

  
Yuzuru sat on the bench and stared at the wall.  
He knew he should move and finish packing up the costume he had laid out in its cover on the bench, his skates that were on the floor by his feet. The locker room was mostly empty, the media sufficiently dealt with. Yuzuru was sat alone in his little corner, the lockers behind his back shielding him from the door and whoever was left in the room with him.

It wasn’t like in Helsinki. Not exactly. He was disappointed, demoralised, but also really, really angry. He hadn’t been angry in Helsinki, but he was furious with himself right then.  
It felt good to just have a moment of quiet before he had to go back out to cameras and people. Maybe this wasn’t a competition that really mattered a whole lot; there were no Olympic placements on the line, it wouldn’t make much difference to his world ranking, and combined scores weren't counted. But the performance had mattered to him.

Yuzuru cast his eyes away from the wall when Shoma shuffled up to him and perched on the little sliver of bench beside Yuzuru that wasn’t littered with his bags and partially folded clothes.

“We should probably go soon,” Shoma told him. “I mean, I doubt the bus will leave without you but-”

Yuzuru nodded. “Yeah. I’m just. Spacing out.”

He appreciated Shoma’s casual tone. Not deliberately softened or overly cautious in fear of Yuzuru’s mood. Just normal. Like nothing was wrong. Because really it wasn’t that big of a deal. He was disappointed, frustrated, but it wasn’t the end of the world. A bad performance was no fun, it made you feel rubbish, but Yuzuru wasn’t injured or sick. It wasn’t the worst thing that could happen. It was embarrassing, but no one really expected the best performances of the season at World Team Trophy when the skaters participating were usually still getting hit with fatigue from Worlds. Still, Yuzuru felt a twinge of misery.

Shoma made a small sound, partially to show he was listening but also to express some empathy. “It’ll be good to get some rest, so we’ll be ready for tomorrow.”

Yuzuru nodded grimly. The free skate. He was going to have to play catch up again. He didn’t mind a little pressure in competition, but this routine of doing poorly in the short was tiresome.

“Congratulations,” Yuzuru said, turning his head to look at Shoma. “On first place.”   
Yuzuru sighed. His throat felt dry. “I’m sorry.”

Shoma frowned, confused. “Why?”

“We’re supposed to be a team,” Yuzuru said morosely. “I left you carrying all the weight.”

That was part of why Yuzuru felt so bitter about his failure to deliver. Everyone expected him to do better and be one of the aces of the team. He bombed and let them down. Yuzuru knew the other skaters didn’t really take the event seriously, but it was a little different for the Japanese team. The event was always in their home country, in front of their home crowd with their country’s media showing in force. Yuzuru wanted to give a strong impression ahead of the Olympic season and had done the total opposite.

“No, you didn’t.” Shoma shook his head. Yuzuru supposed at the end of the day he still earned a handful of points for the team, but he still felt like he put pressure on Shoma and the girls to secure any podium finish. Shoma nudged him gently. “We’ll still be a team tomorrow. We’ll shoulder the weight together then too.”

“I wanted to do the short right just once this season,” Yuzuru admitted. That was really the problem. He had wanted one perfect performance and given instead his worst one of the year. Yuzuru’s nose twitched, trying to seem less bothered than he was. “I’m just no good at the short.”

“You know that’s not true,” Shoma rebuked, almost rolling his eyes.

Yuzuru sulked. This program just hadn’t worked out for him, which was a shame because he had wanted to take it to the Olympics. It was a bright and energetic program that caught and interacted with audiences. It was a good option for the game that brought a wider audience than any other competition in any other season. It could have been fun and exciting enough to attract new fans to the sport. But with his confidence in the program low and the inability to end the season with a good image of it, Yuzuru felt it couldn’t be an option anymore. A brand new program was a risk - especially since what he wanted to achieve in the Olympic season was a high degree of consistency and ever-increasing quality.

Shoma let out a small, tired breath. “You put extra pressure on yourself when you don’t need to.”  
Yuzuru snorted and shared a look with Shoma, both of them knowing that little statement was like saying the sky was blue. Shoma’s lips curled. The bubble of silence between them was comfortable. Yuzuru didn’t have much to say, and it was enough that Shoma was there with him. For him.

Shoma broke the silence again. “Do you want me to stay with you? We can go to the hotel together and hang out.”

Yuzuru considered that but shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I think I just need some space and... quiet.”

“I get it.” Shoma’s head bobbed. “Sometimes it’s better to just be left alone.”

Yuzuru looked around at his opened bags. “I should pack my stuff.”

“I’ll leave you to it.” Shoma stood up, giving Yuzuru room. “I’ll save a seat next to me on the bus if you want to sit next to me.” Yuzuru watched as Shoma started to move away. Shoma smiled, eyes warm and friendly. “If you change your mind and want to hang out, let me know.”

For a moment Yuzuru was surprised. He asked for space, and Shoma gave it to him immediately. No questioning if he was sure, no touching his arms or knee, no pulling him into a hug. No insisting that he stay.   
Yuzuru appreciated Javier’s way of trying to comfort him when his mood dropped, but it could be overbearing at times. It wasn’t necessarily bad, Yuzuru had gotten used to the affection Javier gave so freely and liberally, and it was something he could crave. He liked the warmth and safety of it. When he was upset or nervous sometimes the solid heat of Javier all around him, the way he smelled, the tickle of breath against his skin was exactly what Yuzuru needed. Javier was perfect for that - those private moments where it felt like nothing existed outside of his embrace.   
But it wasn’t always what he needed, and sometimes it just made Yuzuru feel worse.  
He didn’t really dislike Javier’s coddling nature; he knew it came from him just caring so much. But Yuzuru was grateful for Shoma’s more careful approach. It wasn’t a matter of either of them being better or worse - it would always depend on the situation, but it was different.

Yuzuru hesitated for a moment, speaking up before Shoma moved too far away. “Wait.”

Shoma turned with a gentle, teasing smile. “Changed your mind already?”

Yuzuru reached out his hand. Without hesitation, Shoma took it, holding on with a light touch he could easily pull away from if he wanted to.

“Just. Before you go.” Yuzuru’s voice was hushed. He felt a little bashful. “Can I have a hug?”

Shoma automatically moved forwards. Without a word or a moment's hesitation, he slot easily between Yuzuru’s legs, holding out his arms so Yuzuru could wrap his arms around his waist and bury his face against Shoma’s sternum. Yuzuru closed his eyes, slouching so he could rest his cheek against Shoma’s chest. He felt the arms wrap around his shoulders and Shoma’s chin come to rest on the top of his head. Yuzuru took a deep breath, appreciative for this little moment of quiet where all he had to focus on was the soft sounds of Shoma breathing and the steady thud of his heartbeat. Shoma’s arms were loose around him as if to make sure Yuzuru could slip away whenever he decided he had enough. Something stirred in Yuzuru’s chest. Shoma always seemed to make sure Yuzuru had a way out.

Yuzuru drew back, just enough to look up at Shoma. He paused for a moment, listening for signs that anyone else was left in the locker room. Nothing. It was just the two of them.  
His voice came out incredibly quiet anyway. Just in case.   
“Can I have a kiss too?”

Shoma smiled, a little shy, and nodded. There was a glimmer in his eyes as if he had hoped Yuzuru might ask that.   
It was easy. Yuzuru barely had to lift his face up, and Shoma barely needed to tilt his head down for their lips to meet. Shoma raised a hand to gently hold the back of Yuzuru’s head and kissed him soft and gentle. Yuzuru felt the anger and disappointment temporarily melt away, tension leaving his shoulders. Shoma completely filled his focus. The press of lips against his own, the scent of Shoma’s clean shirt just about covering the slight musk of his skin. Yuzuru felt Shoma’s fingers in his hair, the weight of the hand on his shoulder, the solidness of Shoma’s back beneath his hands. Yuzuru was acutely aware of Shoma’s body between his thighs. His fingers traced down Shoma’s spine.  
Not too brief, but not too long. Enough to comfort.

“Pack your stuff,” Shoma said, drawing back. He looked like he was trying to hide how pleased he was, his eyes a little dazed. “I’ll let Tracy know you're nearly ready to go.”

Yuzuru smiled. “Thanks.”

They sat together on the bus back to the hotel. They didn’t talk, both mutually listening to music on their headphones. But hidden behind the jacket Yuzuru had piled on his lap, Shoma held his hand.  
  


***  
  


The free skate was better. Not perfect, but enough. Yuzuru felt reckless. So frustrated by his short, so annoyed by mistakes he thought ‘fuck it. I’ll add another quad.’  
He didn’t complete his salchow early in the program, and the axel he moved to his last jump pass became a single instead of a triple, but he got a second toe-loop in with a half loop and triple salchow in combination, so he could at least be satisfied with that.

It was funny. His short program, while having some divided opinion, had initially been more popular than his free. The audience warmed up to it much quicker, he had silenced some doubt that the rock star routine suited him early in the season. The free program took longer, many seeing it as too quiet, too introspective, lacking the dramatic flair that was typically expected from him. In the end, the short program ended up being the flat note of the season, and his free program became a playground to throw in whatever jumps he felt like he could do, to play with layouts on the fly and deliver surprises.

It hadn’t been perfect, but Yuzuru left the ice knowing he could land three quads in the second half of a program.  
200.49. Yuzuru slid into first place. Now it was only a matter of watching, waiting, seeing who would outscore him and cheer for Shoma. In some ways, now he could relax.

“Since you didn’t like the bow,” Kana grinned, handing him a hachimaki as they settled back in the team Japan box. “Although it was very cute on you.”

Yuzuru took the headband and smiled. He cast his eyes to Mai, who had nodded in agreement. He gestured at her head. “I like the flowers. You look like a princess.”

Mai laughed shyly and thanked him. “I’ll have to stay in character for tomorrow,” she joked. Yuzuru slid on the hachimaki, staying still as Kana fussed with it, styling his hair around it so it didn’t look completely awkward, though he could feel it pushing his ears forward. He was looking forward to seeing the girls skate for their free program. While it was a pity Satoko couldn’t attend due to injury, he was happy Mai and Wakaba had a chance to shine.

“There, now you look the part of our team prince,” Kana said with a satisfied smile. Yuzuru snorted.

Yuzuru managed to hold on to his first place position right up to Shoma’s turn to skate. He cheered loudly and watched.   
A fall, some risky landings that made Yuzuru wince, but a strong performance. It struck Yuzuru just how much Shoma had grown through the season. Just like himself, Shoma’s free program hadn’t been a perfect fit early on, but his charisma on the ice grew, the choreography both sharp and smooth.

If this had been any event where they were competing against each other, rather than alongside each other, Shoma would have won. It was only a year ago that Shoma had told Yuzuru he wanted to reach his level, and here he was. Oddly, Yuzuru didn’t feel threatened or unhappy about this, rather it gave him a pleasant thrill. It was the same thing that made him like training with Javier so much; the push and pull between wanting a friend to do well and striving to be better than them. Perhaps if they both had two clean skates in competition, Yuzuru would have an upper hand and take the gold, but it would be a close call.

Yuzuru always wanted to push himself, beat himself, work harder, be better. He always had his sights set on a goal ahead of him, an idea of his maximum potential and how much he thought he had left to do to achieve it. Having rivals didn’t change that focus, but it added to his motivations. He thrived on the competition, he liked that edge of knowing that if he got complacent, too cocky or if he let himself relax too much that would be it.   
It was flattering that so many of his rivals credited him with pushing the sport forward, but they drove it forward together. With how tight the field was, with how hard each competition would be, it was exciting to think of where they’d all be this time next year, or what the sport would look like the season after. Competing had never been so fun, as it was right then. The prospect of next season was stressful, but also incredibly exciting.

Something clicked in Yuzuru’s mind. A decision finally made. He knew what he would have to do if he wanted to make history next season. He would need to take his very best skating and refine it further, elevate it. He had known all year what free program he wanted to showcase in Pyeongchang, now he was sure what he would do for his short too. Finish some unfinished business. Perfect what had been so close to perfection. Refine the apex of his skating so far. Everything he had developed through this season would be brought together with everything he had learned through the years he had been skating, along with everything he was yet to develop.

Yuzuru rushed to Shoma as he left the ice to get his scores, pulling him into a one armed hug.  
198.49. Shoma was in second place, but their team had settled at first. Yuzuru joked he was glad this wasn’t worlds and hugged Shoma again.

After the skating had ended and the media was dealt with, they had head back to their hotel rooms, showered and had some time to relax. Yuzuru had not been surprised or in anyway way bothered by the knock on his door and Shoma bouncing into the room swinging a little plastic bag. Yuzuru eyed it curiously as he closed the door behind him.

“I thought we could celebrate,” Shoma told him with a grin.

Yuzuru wrinkled his nose, teasing. “We haven’t won yet.”

Shoma shrugged. “We finished our part. And our team is first for now.”

Yuzuru nodded and patted Shoma’s shoulder in passing as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “You did well.”

“You helped,” Shoma teased, sitting down.

Yuzuru tried to sneak a peek into the bag. “How are we celebrating?”

“Boyang style.” Shoma grinned, emptying the bag to reveal his treat for Yuzuru.

Yuzuru laughed. “Ah yes, the food of champions,” he got out once his giggling subsided. “Instant ramen.”

Shoma pouted, putting the two packages on the bed for Yuzuru to inspect. “You don’t want it?”

“I didn’t say that,” Yuzuru retorted. The salty, savoury junkiness of a decent cup ramen was very tempting. “But I probably shouldn’t. I’m supposed to be monitoring my diet…”

“I think you are occasionally allowed to eat something beige,” Shoma said flatly, not really on board with Yuzuru’s vigilant efforts to eat a strict, healthy, well-balanced diet. Shoma’s eating habits were borderline awful, even pickier than Yuzuru and mostly consisting of white rice, meat and candy.   
Shoma’s eyes turned mischievous, voice slipping into a drawl as if tempting Yuzuru to do something he shouldn’t. “The season is over.”

Yuzuru pulled a face and got up to make sure the little hotel kettle was full of water and switched it on. Shoma had a satisfied little grin when Yuzuru looked back at him. “If my face is puffy tomorrow I’m blaming you.”

Shoma just laughed, light and comfortable. “We’ll be puffy together.”

Yuzuru felt warm and content, listening to the happy little sounds Shoma made as they slurped on their noodles, at cross legged together on the floor because neither of them wanted to accidentally get broth on the white hotel bed sheets.

It didn’t really feel like a date. It was all too relaxed, too casual. More like just two friends hanging out. Food finished and trash appropriately disposed of, they settled on the bed; Shoma with his Gameboy, lay on his belly and Yuzuru sat beside him on his PSP, chatting idly as they played games. Occasionally Shoma would look up at him, big eyes peeking through long bangs that were slightly curly and still damp from his shower, legs kicking up cutely behind him.   
Once enough time had passed that Yuzuru felt their food had settled enough, he turned off his PSP, placed it beside the bed, and rolled on top of Shoma.

Shoma groaned, “Why?”

“Want to watch you play,” Yuzuru said, letting his arms flop to the sides, bracketing Shoma’s body. “And you looked comfy.”  
Shoma’s body was pleasantly warm beneath Yuzuru’s. It was a close, comfortable feeling to lie on top of him like this, but innocent. Friendly.

“You’re heavier than you look,” Shoma wheezed. Yuzuru giggled, shifting some of his weight onto his forearms, so he wasn’t completely crushing Shoma into the mattress and rest his chin on Shoma’s shoulder. Shoma wiggled underneath him, possibly trying to throw him off, but Yuzuru persevered. For a while, Shoma let him stay there. It was nice to feel how their bodies fit together, even if it was in an entirely platonic context. Yuzuru could feel the minute movement of Shoma breathing against him, the tickle of Shoma's hair against his cheek, the curve of his ass against his hip.

“I thought you were good at this game,” Yuzuru joked, speaking directly into Shoma’s ear. Yuzuru felt him shiver beneath him. It was so, so very tempting to press his lips to the little patch of skin beneath Shoma’s ear, to see how he would react, but Yuzuru held back.

“I am,” Shoma grumbled. “It’s a bit distracting having you lie on me though.”

Shoma dropped his Gameboy and forcibly rolled onto his side. Yuzuru yelped as he went crashing onto the bed. Shoma flipped himself over to face him, laughing.

Slowly, they wound down. Shoma reached up and switched off his game, Yuzuru settled comfortably on his side. They lay face to face, close enough to touch. Yuzuru’s fingers itched to push hair away from Shoma’s forehead. The shift in mood was subtle, but Yuzuru felt it. They weren’t just friends hanging out anymore. Even with the laughing and playing around, it was different.

Yuzuru thought about scooting forwards, just a little, and kissing him. He wondered if that thought crossed across his face some way because Shoma’s expression sobered somewhat and his eyes becoming more alert, chest rising and falling quicker than before. Yuzuru reached out and lightly touched his cheek, lips parting. Yuzuru felt his own lips part in kind, drawing closer to Shoma without thinking but not closing the gap. Just close. Yuzuru listened to the way Shoma’s breath caught and feeling the softness of his cheek. Yuzuru waited for Shoma to make that final move, but he didn’t.

Perhaps it would be too much. Too fast. Too soon. It was one thing to kiss on a hotel bed sat up straight, it was another thing to kiss lay down the way they were. It was all too new, to be pushing forwards like that.  
Yuzuru still wasn’t sure what he wanted. It wouldn’t be fair to rush ahead and do whatever he pleased while everything was still so unclear.

“You look sleepy,” Yuzuru whispered after a stretch of silence, drawing back his hand.

Shoma made a small sound in response. “What time is it?”

Yuzuru shrugged. “Maybe around midnight?”

“I should sleep.” Shoma’s lips quirked. “We need to have energy tomorrow to cheer well.”

Yuzuru chuckled, sitting up as Shoma did. Their goodbye was as casual as everything else had been. Yuzuru walked with Shoma to the door, wondering if this really counted as a date or not and whether it even mattered if it was or wasn’t. They weren’t putting labels on their relationship yet, maybe it was best to not put labels on the time they spent together either.

Yuzuru wasn’t sure if he was okay with that anymore. He was still grateful, for the little areas of space Shoma gave him. He was thankful that Shoma was happy to put no pressure on him and let them both take time to get a feel of where they were heading before they made any kind of decisions.

But he had a distant knot of worry in the pit of his stomach that the ambiguity was more uncertainty than treading lightly and going slow. He thought Shoma was being open with him, and in return, he was trying to be clear with Shoma, but he didn’t want to make assumptions. Afterall, he had been wrong before.

Yuzuru didn’t want Shoma to feel insecure - he already had a sad tendency to confuse humility with self-deprecation that made Yuzuru ache. He wanted to be sure they were taking their time and keeping things open because that was what Shoma wanted too, not just because it was what Shoma thought Yuzuru needed. The arrangement was good for Yuzuru, and he liked the feeling of gradual, natural progression but he had thought his relationship with Javier felt natural too only to find out they completely misunderstood each other somewhere down the line.

Yuzuru held Shoma’s chin gently, tipping his face up just enough to kiss him goodnight. He felt Shoma’s hands come to rest on his shoulders, fingers curling there - half grasping, half holding them both back to a polite distance. It made Yuzuru wonder what it would be like, to kiss and have their bodies close.

“See you tomorrow,” Shoma said. He was apparently too tired to hide how pleased he was this time because it shone from him. Yuzuru wanted to kiss him again, to see if the curl to his lips would grow with joy or with smugness because right then it was in between.

When Yuzuru lay back on his bed, his sheets smelled faintly of Shoma. He buried his face in them and slept.  
  


***  
  


“You should wear your bow,” Yuzuru proclaimed happily, forcing the oversized pink bow onto Shoma’s head.

Shoma scowled. “It was yours first.”

They were still backstage, the ladies competition not starting yet. It was their job, as teammates, to cheer for them and show team spirit. The team with the most spirit would win a little reward. Yuzuru knew they wouldn’t get that prize, but he still had some pride in his ability to cheer. And it was a pleasure to get to watch the other disciplines openly, even if he had been absent for most of the competition to practice. Kana had been a great captain, preparing a lot of props for them to decorate their box with and little things to wear. Yuzuru took a shine to a red robe he discovered in her little dress up box, and appreciated the tribute to Mao she arranged, given her announcement she would retire had been so close to the competition starting. It gave Yuzuru a twinge of sadness. Mao had retired, Kanako would be making her announcement tomorrow. He’d be going to Pyeongchang with a completely different team than Sochi, assuming he qualified for the Olympics at all and wasn’t struck by an injury or inconvenient sickness.

“It looks cuter on you.” Yuzuru looked at Shoma appraisingly, enjoying the tinge of pink rising in Shoma’s cheeks. “You’ve got fans to service now too, you know.”

Shoma snorted and took the bow off, wrinkling his nose. “Are you my fan? Should I service you?”

For a split second, they were quiet, just looking at each other as Shoma’s eyes widened and his face flushed red, realising what he had just said. Yuzuru wiggled his eyebrows, threw his head back and laughed loudly.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Shoma whined, covering his face. Yuzuru doubled over, shoulders shaking.

He took a deep breath, trying to suppress his giggles. “Sure you didn’t, you-”

They both dissolve back into laughter. It was odd to think that not so long ago, this could never have happened. Shoma had been too shy and reserved. For a time, Yuzuru only really saw his bluntness and humour when directed at Keiji; a veneer of politeness and some genuine empathy reserved for Yuzuru with just hints of his sharpness and mischief occasionally coming through. Their closeness had blossomed gradually, with Shoma opening up and facets of his personality creeping out until he was comfortable enough to tease and laugh and snark. He had, in some small ways, grown shy again after his confession. It was satisfying to see that melt away once more in the naughty smile Shoma shot at him when their laughter subsided.

Shoma picked up a red flower crown and unceremoniously dumped it on Yuzuru’s head. “You should wear the flowers.”

Yuzuru picked up another garland of flowers and placed them on Shoma. “Oh, these look pretty on you too,” Yuzuru said with a nod. Shoma looked up at him, all big, shy eyes and a lingering smile. Yuzuru peered into the nearby mirror. “I think flowers and hachimaki together looks weird.”

“Nah, it’s fine. You should give your fans some service too.” Shoma smirked.

Yuzuru sniggered.  
  


***  
  


The ladies had, apparently, turned up to fight in the free skate. It was fun to sit with Shoma and comment on each performance. They cheered boisterously for Wakaba as she went out to the centre of the ice in her ornate red outfit. She was a delight to watch, flowing in and out of her elements making everything look easy and smooth, in wonderful harmony with her music. Yuzuru turned to Shoma as she ended her performance, rubbing his arms with a dorky grin.

“I want to give her plus three on everything!”

“Perfect tens!” Shoma joked. Yuzuru nodded enthusiastically. Shoma nudged him with his shoulder. “I think we’re a bit biased.”

“No way!” Yuzuru argued. “I have goosebumps.”

Mai was just as good as Wakaba, but it stirred something different inside Yuzuru to see her complete a beautiful skate and get a season’s best score. It wasn’t just about points or winning. Two years ago she had been in hospital, being told her skating career could be over due to an illness she couldn’t control. She was so petite and delicate on the outside, but underneath she was iron strong, a fighter.

They had different illnesses, but Yuzuru felt a sense of kinship with her in that respect. He understood what it was like for everything to be harder, having to struggle through was others didn’t have to, having to be careful in a way others weren’t, knowing that your health could turn without warning any day. Yuzuru supposed he was lucky in a way, that his asthma had been there all his life. He knew nothing else. He didn’t have a reference point of being completely healthy, only times when his asthma had been worse and harder to cope with. He had almost eighteen years of learning how to skate with asthma, dealing with it, treating it, avoiding attacks the best he could. It would never go away, and attacks could strike no matter how careful he was, but that was his normal. Mai hadn’t always had juvenile arthritis, it had developed later on. But still she coped, she treated, she was careful, she did what she could. And there she was, graceful and stunning on the ice as if there was no pain and no problem, destined for second place in this part of the competition, a hopeful for the Japanese Olympic team.

It was a terrible pity only two of the girls could go to the Olympics. Someone would have to miss out. Satoko would, hopefully, be recovered from her injury by the end of the off-season, and there were other ladies on the rise in Japan like little Marin and Rika. Yuzuru was glad the men had secured three spots, but he was also glad the fight amongst the men was nowhere as fierce as the Japanese ladies.  
Still, he would be happy if Mai could make it. He liked her quiet tenacity. Her skating had room to grow, but he saw that potential in her. Her fighting spirit might have been less wild than his own, but they had it in common. He wanted to see her overcome the odds.

“You were amazing,” Yuzuru told her afterwards, beaming with pride. The hard work of both girls had given the team a victory, but also solidified some of Yuzuru’s thoughts about his own goals for next season. Mai smiled sweetly.

Yuzuru had felt sad that his old team had fallen apart, with everyone quietly retiring over the years. But his new team wasn't so bad.  
  


***  
  


Yuzuru bounced beside the ice, bending a straightening his knees just enough to engage the muscles in his thighs. Some of the others were already on the ice warming up before the run throughs, and hasty throwing together of choreography would start. Yuzuru watched for a moment; Wakaba and Mai talking animatedly to each other, Shoma drifting around the rink still looking half-asleep. Yuzuru’s skates were on, he was about to step out onto the ice when he felt familiar hands encircle his waist.

Yuzuru looked behind his shoulder disapprovingly. “You’re late.”

“Only a little,” Javier said defensively before breaking out into a sheepish grin. “I overslept.”

The gala practice was split in two; Team Japan and guests earlier to sort out their team number and run through their own programs, a little time to run over the finale and then next set of skaters afterwards to do the same. It wasn’t a lot of practice time but enough to have some time to try some little things while others run through. It was as much for the benefit of the camera and light operators than the skaters themselves, but time on the ice before a performance was always precious.

Yuzuru picked up Pooh from the rink wall and half-heartedly bopped Javier on the head. “Bad. I’m telling Brian.”

“Tracy scolded me already.” Javier pouted, letting go of Yuzuru’s waist with a slow slide of his hands. Yuzuru’s eyes briefly flicked over towards Shoma, a tight feeling in his chest. Javier shouldn’t do things like that, but he always did it anyway.

Yuzuru turned and leaned against the wall, facing Javier. “What program you doing?”

“Danny boy.”

Yuzuru pouted. “Aw, but it’s so sad.”

“You think so?” Javier chuckled. Yuzuru didn’t know the song well, but the tone of the music and the timbre of the voice created a sombre feeling. Javier moved, so he was stood more beside Yuzuru rather than in front of him. “I’m doing my Matador too.”

“Yay!” Yuzuru punctuated by assisting Pooh in raising his paws in a little cheer. “I like Matador costume!”

Javier smiled, leaning close. “Because I’m so sexy, right?”

“Not really.” Yuzuru snorted, “You pull too many stupid faces to be sexy. But costume is pretty.”

Javier pretended to be wounded, but humour glimmered in his eyes. He straightened up and leant back against the barrier. “How was the competition?”

Yuzuru wrinkled his nose and shrugged. “I didn’t do good, but I had fun.”

“Yeah. You seemed a lot happier once your free skate was over,” Javier stated casually.

Yuzuru blinked. “You watched?”

“A little.” Javier looked down at his feet. “I came to Japan a little early to spend some time with Miki and Hima. I caught parts.”

“Oh.” Yuzuru felt his mood sink despite himself. He shouldn’t care anymore, but Javier spending time with Miki just added another layer of confusion. Did he change his mind? What was the point? It was frustrating to never be sure where he stood or what Javier was thinking.

“We have a coaching event together in a few weeks for a sponsor,” Javier explained. “We had to go over what our lesson would be like and make sure we still got along okay.”

Yuzuru swallowed. His throat felt dry. “Do you?”

“We’re okay.” Javier nodded, shoulders dropping as he relaxed again. “Which is a relief.”

“That’s good,” Yuzuru mumbled. “Kana told me. That you could probably be friends.”

Javier tensed. “You talked to Kana about Miki and me?”

“I wanted to know if she was...angry,” Yuzuru explained slowly. He didn’t want Javier to think that Yuzuru didn’t trust him. He just needed the assurance from an outsider, that Miki wasn’t bitter about how he had ruined her relationship with Javier.

“I’m surprised Kana said anything nice,” Javier said plainly. He looked over at where Kanako was tying her boots, glaring at how close they were stood. “I get the feeling she doesn’t like me.”

“She doesn’t. But I asked for me, not for you. So she won’t lie.” Yuzuru met Javier’s eyes, wanting to make sure he was absolutely understood. “I wanted to be sure Miki wasn’t mad at _me_.”

Javier sighed. Yuzuru knew they’d talked about this before, but he couldn’t exactly shake the concern he had. “She has no reason to be mad at you.”

Yuzuru grimaced. Miki had plenty of reasons to be mad at him. “Sure.”

Javier lowered his voice. “Does Kana know about-”

“Kana knows _everything_.”

Javier cleared his throat, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “Did she say anything to Miki?”

Yuzuru looked down at Pooh, a bitter feeling catching him. Yuzuru preferred Miki not knowing about what had happened in France, but he wondered how much Javier kept his relationship with him from Miki to spare her feelings and how much it was just Javier treating him like a dirty little secret. “No. Kana never said anything.”

“Is that why she doesn’t like me?” Javier asked. Yuzuru silently inclined his head. Javier leaning closer, voice dropping but still light, his insecurity masquerading as a tease. “What have you said about me to her?”

“It’s nothing I said,” Yuzuru stated dryly. Javier tilted his head, curious. “I’ll...explain later.”   
Yuzuru shook his head, looking back out at the ice. “I’m gonna go. I wanna train lutz.”

“Your lutz huh?” Javier chuckled. “You’ve been spending too much time with the crazy young guys.”

“I should come back to the old men?” Yuzuru teased.

Javier tickled beneath Yuzuru’s ribs in retaliation, making Yuzuru squawk loudly. He tried to move away, but Javier caught him by the waist again. When Yuzuru wiggled free, he saw Shoma looking over at them. Nausea rolled over him, but Shoma only smiled.  
  


***  
  
Yuzuru leant against the rink wall and grabbed his water bottle. The choreography for the team number was a bit sparse, but it did the job. All they really needed to do was have fun, show off some signature moves and remember small routines they’d do together. It was always funny to see Shoma holding back his laughter at his own inability to follow even short choreographed routines for things like this, looking at whoever was next to him for help.

There was a feeling of freedom in the gala practice. The season was practically over, now was a good time to try out jumps that weren’t quite ready for competition yet, go over little things he knew he would be focusing on through the summer.   
Their practice session was almost over now. Yuzuru had time for a little break before the last little run through, then it’ll be off the ice and backstage to get ready for the show.  
Kanako came and stood next to him flashing him her brilliant smile.

It would hurt to hear her make her announcement, to skate her goodbye. The music she chose for her farewell skate was perfect; a memory of one of the highlights of her career, a sombre look to the past while also stepping into the future. It would be a nice way to show her growth and developed maturity since 2012, and she started the next stage of her life. Like a graduation, not just a retirement.

“You’re going to make everyone cry,” Yuzuru told her.

“Even you?” Kanako teased.

“Maybe,” Yuzuru shrugged. “You and Mao retiring at the same time really sucks.”

“Sorry,” Kanako said sarcastically. Yuzuru grinned at her. He had been worried she would be having a hard time with her decision, but she was settled with it. It was good to know she was prepared. She stretched her arms over her head, looking in front of her, less bright than usual.“I just hope my last performance will be good.”

“It’ll be beautiful. You always are,” Yuzuru tells her. He was starting to feel like he was more torn up about it than she was. It was like the end of an era, with only him left behind as everyone else moved on. He had to slowly say goodbye to little things, people, who had been with him earlier in his life. It wouldn’t matter if he followed them and moved on the way they had, or if he continued to compete for longer. Either way, he had to let go of someone to let new people in. It was hard to let go.

“Ugh, don’t be all soft with me.” Kanako scoffed. Yuzuru put his bottle back down on the wall beside him. She moved a little closer, speaking a little quieter. “How're things with you?”

“I’m okay.” Yuzuru shrugged, looking out to where Shoma flung himself into a quad salchow attempt. Under-rotated. He fell. “I’m gonna take a break from school for next season-”

“I’m not talking about that,” Kanako tutted. “What’s going on with your Spanish problem?”

“Nothing.” Looked down at his boots, wiggling his legs to feel the ice beneath his blades. “We haven’t really talked yet.”

Kanako sounded exasperated. “The longer you put it off, the harder it will be.”

“I know.” Yuzuru looked up feeling sullen. He had hoped that by now he would have a clearer idea of what he wanted to say to Javier. There was so much, it was hard to sort through it all. He needed to know about Shoma, he needed to know he had hurt Yuzuru, but if there would be any kind of resolution at the end of it was a mystery. An apology and explanation - Yuzuru wanted those, needed them, but other than that he had no idea what he expected to come out of that conversation. He had a hunch, and if he were right, it wouldn’t make things any easier.

“I noticed he’s still all over you like a rash,” Kanako said with great distaste.

“That’s just Javi,” Yuzuru said offhandedly, watching as Shoma fell on another try at the salchow. Javier lazily skated over to him, holding out a hand to help him up. Yuzuru knew what she meant, but he wasn’t exactly lying. Yuzuru didn’t even know if Javier was aware of just how much he touched Yuzuru, how flirty he could be, but it seemed to just be in his nature. Kanako rolled her eyes. Yuzuru scowled at her “Don’t look at me like that.”

“I told you that he would be like this,” she grumbled, folding her arms over her chest.

Yuzuru remembered all too well what she predicted Javier would do if he and Miki broke up, though she hadn’t factored in that they would end up dating for around two years. Yuzuru shook his head. “It’s not like what you think.”

“I hope not,” Kanako admitted grudgingly. “I wish I had been wrong though. I know you still want him.” Kanako followed Yuzuru’s line of sight, looking over to where Javier was trying to give Shoma a few tips for his salchow. Shoma watched him with big, confused eyes and nodded his head. Javier patted his shoulder and ruffled his hair, sending him off for attempt number three.   
Kanako sighed. “You told me you weren’t waiting around for him.”

“I wasn’t. I’m not.” Yuzuru licked his lips, watching Shoma try again. Still under and a two footed landing, but an improvement. Shoma spotted Yuzuru watching him and beamed, pushing forward on his blades to approach him. Yuzuru softened, his voice growing quieter. “That’s why I can’t go back to Javi easily. There’s someone else I need to think about.”

Kanako whipped her head to look at him. “Huh?”

Shoma came to a sharp stop in front of them, spraying ice on Kanako’s boots. “Hey.”

Kanako scowled. “Go away Sho, we were talking.”

“I’m not stopping you,” Shoma deadpanned, reaching over Yuzuru’s body to grab his water bottle.

Yuzuru held onto the rink wall with his arms beside him, leaning forwards ever so slightly as Shoma unscrewed the cap and took his first sip. “Having fun?”

Shoma nodded, swallowing and licking his bottom lip. “A bit. You gonna come and play with me?”

Yuzuru snickered. Of course, Shoma would see trying out new jumps as just playing around. Yuzuru bobbled his head from side to side. “Maybe.”

Shoma pressed the rim of the water bottle to his lips again, taking another mouthful. Yuzuru could feel Kanako’s eyes flicking between the two of them, perhaps a little annoyed at how she was cut off from the conversation. Shoma tilted his head at Yuzuru. “Is there any more group stuff?”

Yuzuru reached out to flatten a wayward strand of Shoma’s hair that was sticking up at an odd angle, tucking it behind Shoma’s ear. “Just the finale I think.”

“I guess I can play around a bit more then.” Shoma handed the bottle back to Yuzuru, their fingers brushing for a moment as he took it. Kanako’s eyes narrowed.

“You should take a little break too,” Yuzuru advised, taking a quick sip of water himself. “Don’t wear yourself out.”

Shoma smirked, eyes turning coy. “Oh, It’s fine. I have a lot of energy.”

Yuzuru bit his lip, holding back a laugh and Shoma skated away, cute butt swaying slightly from the motion of his steps. He turned back to Kanako, who was staring at him hard. “What?”

“You!” She exclaimed, smacking his shoulder lightly. “What? When? How?” Yuzuru pulled a face, holding up his hands in an act of innocence. “I’m not a moron, and I know you,” she huffed. “You were _flirting_. And I saw you looking at his ass.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Yuzuru said, smiling towards his feet.

“Please. Shoma has had a raging crush on you for ages,” Kanako says, excitement carrying in her voice in the way she extended some words. “He’s agonised over whether or not to tell you for about half the season. I assume that he did.”

Yuzuru blinked at her, momentarily stunned. “He told you?”

“Oh, he’s chewed off Keiji’s ear about it too,” Kanako said carelessly. “To the point where I think Keiji just wanted him to do it so he’d shut up. Mao thinks it’s adorable.”

  
Yuzuru gusted out a breath. He had never imagined that Shoma had told people freely that he liked Yuzuru as more than just a friend. He could maybe believe some people picking up on it, reading into the way he spoke about Yuzuru or acted around him and drawing that conclusion. But no, Shoma actually said it himself, out loud, to more than one person. Even if he hadn’t gone on to share the way their relationship was changing he didn’t seem ashamed of it.

Kanako looked concerned, taking his reaction as something more than just being a bit startled. “Don’t worry, I don’t think they’re making any assumptions about you. Mao just thinks Shoma is the cutest thing and Keiji doesn’t seem to care either way.”

Yuzuru shook his head. For once, that didn’t really matter to him. “I’m just...surprised Shoma told anyone.”

“We’ve known him since he was a kid,” Kanako shrugged. “It’s not like he runs around telling everyone, but it was kind of obvious he was crushing on you. I guess he didn’t see the point of denying it when we were teasing him about it anyway.” Yuzuru met her gaze. She smiled at his reassuringly. “He’s cautious, but we’re his friends.”

Yuzuru’s lips twitched into a serene smile. “Yeah. I guess he can trust you.”

“Shoma is the ‘someone else’, right?” Kanako said, checking just for confirmation. “Keiji did bitch about feeling like a third wheel lately.”

“Yeah,” Yuzuru laughed a little. “He confessed at Four continents.”

Kanako bit her lip, smiling gleefully. “Was it cute?”

“Adorable.” Yuzuru leaned back against the side of the rink, his smile growing. “He wanted to tell me on Valentine’s day but waited until we finished competing.”

  
Kanako squeaked, delighted. Yuzuru looked at the way her eyes shone and her smiled beamed out of her. He briefly relived how happy and giddy he had felt when Shoma had confessed to him. It was nice to just share a little bit of that moment. Yuzuru had always listened to Kanako talk about boys she liked or Keiji and Ryuju talk about girls they thought were pretty but he never really joined in. He thought it would make them uncomfortable. He figured it was private and none of their business. He never thought he was missing out by only giving little bits of advice to others or making quips but never sharing his own little romantic interests. He had talked to Kanako about Javier, but only when she bugged him about it and for the most part whenever he talked about Javier, it had been the bad times. He hadn’t really talked about the good things. No wonder she had such a poor opinion of him.  
Yuzuru’s eyes flickered over to where Shoma was gliding around the ice. Shoma told friends, shared the joy and excitement of his feelings for Yuzuru. He understood why. It felt good, to talk with friends about this kind of thing. It was freeing.

A frown marred Kanako’s face, remembering something. “But. Javi-”

“It’s complicated.” Yuzuru looked down. Understatement of the year. “The situation as a whole. It’s complicated.”

“Yuzu,” Kanako’s voice turned harsh. “You better not be stringing Sho along while you decide what to do.”

“It’s not like that.” Yuzuru shook his head, not wanting Kanako to think Yuzuru was just playing a game. “Me and Shoma are kind of...trying it out.”

Kanako paused. “You’re dating?”

“Not really? Kind of?” Yuzuru said lamely. “We’re seeing how it goes.”

Kanako purse her lips in dissatisfaction. “And Javi?”

“We’re going to talk.”

Kanako’s frown deepened. “So, what. You have your chat with Javi, he says he wants you back, and you’ll drop Shoma?”

“No,” Yuzuru insisted. “Javi would have to give me a good reason to do that.” Kanako shot him a very sour look. Yuzuru leaned towards her, his tone edging on desperation. “A _really_ good reason.”

“Like if he tells you he loves you?” Kanako asked dryly. “Would that be enough?”

Yuzuru felt his heart skip a beat. “I don’t know. Maybe not.”

“Yuzu, you’re my friend and I love you to bits. But Shoma is like a little brother to me.” Her eyes turned dark as she looked him dead in the eye. “You hurt him, my foot is going so far up your ass it will come out your mouth, understand?”

“I understand,” Yuzuru said, sufficiently warned. “Hurting Shoma is the last thing I want.” Yuzuru looked over at Shoma one more time. “I really like him.”

Kanako glowered at him. “I feel like there is a but in there somewhere.”

“But Javi is special to me.” Yuzuru struggled. Finding the right words was no easy task. “And if I can’t be good to Shoma right because of how I feel about Javi, then I shouldn’t be with him at all. That would hurt him more, right?”

Yuzuru sees the thought pass over Kanako’s expression, the flicker of recognition. That was what Javier had ended up doing to Miki. In the end, it probably would’ve been better for Miki if she had never dated Javier at all, or if they had ended things earlier. In the end, Miki was the one that likely got hurt the most needlessly.

“Yuzu, just...don't take too long to figure that out.” Kanako urged. Yuzuru nodded sombrely.   
Kanako nudged him in the ribs, trying to lighten the mood. “I wish I had two guys to pick between.”

Yuzuru grimaced. “It’s not as fun as it sounds.”

“Oh I’m sure,” Kanako grinned at him wickedly. “Why not go and help Sho with all that _energy_ he’s got.”

Yuzuru flustered. He could hear her cackling like a witch as he skated away.

***

The gala was a blast. Yuzuru let himself not worry about being perfect or getting everything right, but gave himself entirely to performing for the crowd and having fun. There had been times during the season, during that very week, where Yuzuru had let his need to be perfect cloud over the real reason he skated. Because he loved it. He loved the way it felt to skate and jump and spin. He loved the eyes of the crowd on him and being in the spotlight.  
It was nice to share that spotlight at the end with Shoma and Evgenia. Figure skating as a sport in Japan needed stars to really flourish. Mao, Daisuke, Tatsuki and Kanako had all done so much to bring in audiences and help the sport grow in Japan. Yuzuru got a lot of attention, but he couldn’t carry it alone. It had been a joy through the year to see Shoma’s star be born.

The show was over. Yuzuru laughed at Evgenia, embarrassed, hands covering her cheeks as she laughed after a fall in the finale. Falling was part of figure skating, it was bound the happen eventually, but Evgenia was a marvel in that she seemed to save all of her falls for practice sessions away from crowds, cameras and competitions. Yuzuru gave her a comforting boop with Pooh in passing.

Shoma shook his head in mock disapproval as they headed into the dressing room. “You made Medove fall.”

Yuzuru laughed, grabbing a tissue of the side the wipe the sweat from his face and neck. “How?”

“You played with her hair.” Shoma teased, eyes shining, catching the light to reveal the warmth hidden in the depths of them. “You can’t go making people’s hearts race like that.”

Yuzuru runs his fingers through Shoma’s hair, feeling a slight dampness to the waves. He leant in close, smirking. “Is your heart racing?”

Shoma looked up at him, dead serious, voice hushed. “Like crazy.”

Yuzuru wanted to trail his fingers down to Shoma’s neck and lean in, kiss him right there. But the others came into the dressing room, talking loudly and itching to get out of their costumes. Yuzuru withdrew.

***

Yuzuru was tired. The gala was over. The banquet was over. He felt in high spirits but a little drained. The banquet overall had been fine, nothing out of the ordinary, but it was somewhat awkward to have Shoma and Javier sat together alongside him. It was good that they were all friends, but the situation was desperately uncomfortable for Yuzuru.  
He hung up his suit jacket and pulled off his tie, loosening the buttons of his collar. He would relax for a little while, maybe game for a bit, and sleep. That was the plan, anyway.

  
Of course, things don’t always go to plan.

Yuzuru could guess who was at the door just from the way they knocked. Yuzuru opened the door.  
Javier stood, resting against the doorframe. He smiled disarmingly at Yuzuru. It was unfair, Yuzuru thought, how charming Javier could be without trying.  
“Can I come in?”

“Sure.” Yuzuru let Javier inside, closing the door behind him. There was still part of him that felt on edge being alone with Javier like this. Never sure what would happen, what Javier would say or do but he was glad he got passed the stage where letting Javier into his room was out of the question. Yuzuru checked the lock on the door out of habit and looked back up at Javier. “You’re not tired?”

It was a little odd that Javier seemed to be expectantly waiting for him. Yuzuru led him further into the room and sat on the bed. It felt good to sit down. It would feel even better when he finally got to lie down and sleep.

“I am but I wanted to be alone with you for a bit.” Javier sat beside Yuzuru, not too close. “Are you tired?”

“Yeah,” Yuzuru admitted with a little smile. “But it’s okay.”

They were silent for a moment. Javier seemed oddly keyed-up. His fingers fidgeted at his lap, he licked his lips nervously, shifted his body so he could face Yuzuru more fully.

Javier cleared his throat. “The season’s officially over now.”

“It is.” Yuzuru felt a flutter of nervousness. He didn’t want to do this now, but Kanako was right. The longer he put it off, the harder it would be. He already held it off for long enough.

“You said we could talk.” Javier’s tone was pressing.

“You’re so impatient,” Yuzuru teased, but a slight quiver in his voice gave him away. He understood why Javier might be desperate to get things cleared up, to get everything out in the open. Yuzuru wanted it too, but he wondered if after so long it would feel better to know for sure how Javier felt, what he was thinking, what he wanted. Yuzuru didn’t know what he wanted to hear. Anything Javier had to say would be hard to take.

“I think I’ve been pretty patient.” Javier looked into Yuzuru’s eyes. He wasn’t fidgeting anymore, but there was still a tension in his shoulders. He leaned forwards slightly. “I want us to work this out.” Javier’s voice was gentle. He reached out to place his hand over Yuzuru’s. “I want to know what I did to hurt you. So I don’t do that again.”

Yuzuru felt a lump rise in his throat. He had been aware that Javier was possibly looking to rekindle what they once had, but to have that so clearly be the direction Javier was entering the conversation from made Yuzuru’s insides cringe painfully.   
The last time they had talked about their relationship, things with Shoma had been completely ambiguous; too early to say what they were and where they were headed. Things had progressed since then. Maybe it was still early in the development of their relationship, perhaps it could still be aborted without anyone getting seriously hurt but it was clearer what their destination could be if Yuzuru chose it. If Yuzuru’s feelings for Javier didn’t get in the way.

Javier’s thumb stroked over Yuzuru’s knuckles. “You said you had questions.”

“I do.” Yuzuru’s throat felt dry.   
Questions. He had so many. Like when had Javier decided they were over and why hadn’t he been clear with Yuzuru that they were over. Why had he dated Miki, did Javier love him, what did he want, what would he be willing to do to make things better?   
Part of Yuzuru hoped to hear that Javier would be prepared to take a step back, work on their friendship, try to heal and move on. Part of him wanted to hear that Javier would wait for Yuzuru to be sure. Part of him wanted to hear something significant that would make it clear, either way, what Yuzuru should do. His head hurt. He liked Shoma. He liked where things were going. He wanted to give Shoma a chance and see where they went. But he had been holding on to Javier for so long. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone if Yuzuru continued to dither between the two of them.   
Yuzuru wasn’t sure where to start, but he knew he had to lay out at least part of what their situation was right now.

“You should know,” Yuzuru said slowly. His tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth. “Lately...I’ve been kind of seeing Shoma.”

Javier froze. He sat up straighter, no longer inclined towards Yuzuru. His hand withdrew from Yuzuru’s. His brow creased in confusion. “Shoma.”

Yuzuru felt like his heart was going to leap out of his mouth, it was beating so fast. “Yes.”

“When?” Javier croaked. His face was oddly expressionless. Whatever he had been expecting, hearing that Yuzuru had started to see someone else wasn’t it.

“We-He-” Yuzuru stuttered, unsure how to explain. “Things changed at Four Continents.”

Javier’s face seemed to come back to life. His eyes turned stormy, his jaw clenched slightly, nostrils flaring in disbelief. “You’re...You’re dating?”

Yuzuru hesitated. “We’re...not really dating-?”  
He watched the small run of emotions flicker across Javier’s face. His eyes narrowed at the storm that was building in Javier’s eyes, the darkness that crept over his features. Yuzuru’s brow furrowed, annoyance prickling at him. He knew Javier wouldn’t be particularly happy to hear it; he could understand him being unhappy but the signs of anger struck a nerve.

“Not dating.” Javier’s mouth twisted bitterly. He looked away from Yuzuru. “Who else have you been sleeping with?”

It was like gasoline ran through Yuzuru’s veins and Javier just lit a match. Flashpoint. Yuzuru’s jaw set, eyes hardening.

Yuzuru had been angry at Javier when he found out he had started dating Miki, but he mostly kept that to himself. Javier had started dating Miki no more than mere weeks after deciding they were done without even checking Yuzuru knew and understood they were over. And that was a generous estimate since Yuzuru had no idea when they were supposed to have broken up. Yet Javier was mad that after two years Yuzuru was seeing someone else? It was outrageous to Yuzuru that Javier would have any sense of propriety now; as if Yuzuru shouldn’t date or kiss or sleep with whoever he damn pleased. They weren’t together, they hadn’t been together for some time. Javier had been with someone else. Yuzuru didn’t owe him fidelity. Yuzuru didn’t owe him anything.

“ _Everyone_ ,” Yuzuru spat. “Is that what you want to hear? I sleep with everyone.When you leave, I’m going to fuck Shoma. After that, I’ll fool around with Boyang. It’s sad Han isn’t here, he cute, maybe he let me suck his cock. Nathan is too young so he’ll have to wait but Jason is fun. Maybe I could get Patrick drunk and let him fuck me too so I can sleep with all of my rivals before Olympics-”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Javier said dully, shoulders drooping forwards.

“Does it make you feel better?” Yuzuru gusted, face flush. “If you’re not the only one who jumps from person to person?”

Javier stiffened, hackles raised. “Maybe I just think you should be careful who you hook up with,” He hissed. Yuzuru almost wanted to laugh.

“Because Shoma is so bad,” He said mockingly. “So much worse than you.”

Javier shrank back, muttering. “He’s too young-”

“For _you_.” Yuzuru felt his whole body tense, the double standard was astonishing. “He’s same age I was when you were fucking me.”

Javier looked at him sharply. “We were different.”

“How?” Yuzuru glared. “Because I’m tall? I look older? Or just you can do what you want?”  
Javier looked away, one arm crossed in front of him to hold the opposite elbow. Yuzuru stared at the way his jaw tensed. “You’re angry.”

Javier didn’t look at him. “A little.”

“You’re jealous,” Yuzuru stated coldly. Javier didn’t react at all to acknowledge or deny it. Yuzuru tasted bile at the back of his throat. “You have no right to be jealous.”

Javier flared. “Really? None at all?”

Yuzuru was stunned by Javier's sheer audacity.  
“You think you own me because you fuck me a few years ago?”

“No,” Javier’s voice lost some of its heat, but his expression was still hard. “I thought we were-”

“Going to hook up again?” Yuzuru glowered at him, the nerve Javier struck still raw and pulsing beneath the surface. Was it so easy for Javier to believe that Yuzuru was just sleeping around with anyone who would have him because that was all Javier had wanted from him? Some of Kanako’s more disparaging comments about Javier ran through his mind. His breathing became more ragged, his emotions running away from him. Anger was easy. Nothing was easy.   
“Is that why you here now? You think you can just come to my room whenever you want and I roll onto my back for you?”

Javier flinched, stricken. “No-”

“That’s all I am to you?” Yuzuru’s throat tightened, his mouth tasted of salt. He could feel the prickling in his eyes as tears threatened to form. “I’m just a toy you throw away and pick up whenever you want?”

Javier’s face softened immediately, arms uncrossing from in front of him. “No. Yuzu-”

“You think I should just wait around for you?” Yuzuru could feel his hands shake. He balled them into fists to hide just how badly he was holding it together. His voice betrayed him anyway, stuttering a strained. “You think I should always be there to suck your cock when you’re between girlfriends?”

“Yuzu, no,” Javier repeated more forcefully, voice higher than usual. “I never expected that from you. I never thought that of you.”

Yuzuru’s lips quivered. His head ached from the effort of holding back tears. He hadn’t meant to spill out years of insecurity, uncertainty, confusion. Javier had hit a pressure point without even meaning to, and Yuzuru hit his limit.

“But you’ve been acting like-” Javier reached out on impulse. It always was his first instinct to touch Yuzuru when he seemed upset. He always wanted to comfort, even now when he was just as worked up as Yuzuru was. He thought better of it at before he actually touched Yuzuru’s hand and snatched his arm back.   
“I thought we were going to talk about how to be better for each other. I thought we were getting back together.” Javier paused, and Yuzuru felt like he’s been kicked in the stomach as Javier’s tone took a sharp turn, eyes narrowing in accusation. “You’ve been leading me on.”

“I’ve not done anything,” Yuzuru murmured, his head lowering.

“You didn’t tell me you were seeing Shoma,” Javier said, struggling to keep his voice even and measured, but it came out hushed and full of hurt. “You told me you still have feelings for me.”  
Yuzuru closed his eyes, but Javier continued, voice rising just slightly but quivering, on the verge of breaking. “You’ve been out on _dates_ with me. You lay in bed with me and let me hold you-”

Yuzuru covered his face with his hands, drawing his legs up towards him on the bed, ashamed. He hadn’t meant for the little moments he had gone somewhere with Javier while training before Worlds to be thought of as dates, but he understood how Javier could’ve taken them as such. That was the problem with their relationship being as murky as it was, with both of them habitually holding back from clearly communicating with each other.

“Is this revenge?” Javier asked warily. “You thought I hurt you, so you play with me?”

Yuzuru let his hands run through his hair, looking up at Javier sharply. “You don’t even know what you did.”

“Then tell me!”

“You threw me away,” Yuzuru bit out. “You got a girlfriend and pretended nothing happened-”

“You’re the one that never wanted to talk about it!” Javier let out a heavy, frustrated breath. “I tried. I’ve been confused and every time I tried to find out what was wrong and every time I tried to ask you about it you shut me down.”

Yuzuru huffed. “How could I tell you my feeling when you were dating someone else?”

“You won’t even say it now.” Javier raked his hand through his hair irritably. “I’m not with her anymore.”

“Are you stupid?” Yuzuru said without heat. “I was in love with you.”

“You should’ve told me.”

“I thought you were happy with her. I wanted to keep you as a friend,” Yuzuru explained. He stood by his decisions. Maybe he hadn’t been perfect, maybe it hadn’t worked out as cleanly as either of them wanted, but he stood by it.

“So it was better to just be hot and cold with me all the time?” Javier questioned, fingers clenching against his thighs, rubbing together as if he was trying to work out some of the tension. “It was better to tell me you were fine with me dating Miki one moment then be mad at me the next? Push me away one day and want me to hold you the next?”

Yuzuru slumped forwards, hugging his knees. “What did you expect? You were with me and then as soon as you decided you had enough you went straight to dating Miki. You expected me to be happy with that?”

Javier looked down at his hands. “I thought you didn’t care.”

“You broke my heart.” Javier jerked his head up, his eyes locking with Yuzuru’s. Yuzuru looked away. It was too much. “You didn’t even do it yourself. You just date someone else when you finished with me and left it to other people to tell me.”

Yuzuru heard the sharp exhale. Javier looked lost, his eyes searching Yuzuru’s face, confused. Yuzuru wondered what Javier thought had happened - clearly, not the same run of events as Yuzuru had experienced.

“You wanna know why Kana hate you?” Yuzuru asked, taking absolutely no joy in getting it out there, but Javier needed to know. “Because you left it to her to break my heart for you.”

“What?”

“I didn’t know we were over.” Yuzuru swallowed thickly. There was still some lingering shame and embarrassment in admitting that, somehow, Yuzuru had missed the part where Javier had ended whatever had been between them. He still felt foolish, for not realising. “You never cleanly break up with me. I thought we were together, just focusing on season. I thought we would have more time for each other after GP.”

Javier was dumbfounded, hand coming to pinch the bridge of his nose as his eyes squeezed shut. Yuzuru watched, as that hand slipped down to cover Javier’s mouth, eyes opening to stare into blank space.

“I didn’t know you started dating Miki as soon as you were done playing with me,” Yuzuru continued. He felt breathless as he went back to that moment everything fell apart for him. The one thing keeping him positive at that time was knowing he had Javier, only to find out that he didn’t. “At National. Kana--Kana want to check on me. She tell me you date Miki.”

“I-I thought someone told you earlier than that. After China. You stopped talking to me--”

“You should have told me first!” Yuzuru burst out. “Why you leave it to other people? You should have told me before anyone else could!”

“I know, I know but when you came back, before Barcelona, we talked about it--” Realisation dawned in Javier’s eyes. “You didn’t know what I was talking about.”

“I thought you just feel bad you weren’t there when I was hurt.” Yuzuru hugged his knees tighter to his chest. “Then you take me around Barcelona and meet your family. I thought it was date. I was confused you wouldn’t kiss me.”

Javier’s face seemed to crumble. He covered his mouth with his hands, realisation dawning, as he cast his thoughts back to those weeks training in Toronto, going to Barcelona together, and seeing them in a new light. Little things seemed to slot into place - all the times they had talked and Javier had thought they had said enough when really Yuzuru didn’t understand and Javier hadn’t been clear. Yuzuru could practically see the flashes of memory behind Javier’s eyes. All the little moments in those few weeks where Yuzuru had been sweet and affectionate, every time he had tilted his face upwards waiting for a kiss he never received. Yuzuru’s nails dug into the back of his calf.

“She hates you because she watched my heart break and held me while I cry.” Yuzuru felt his eyes sting. He blinked, trying to keep the tears at bay. It was like picking off a scab only to find the wound beneath wasn’t quite as healed as you thought it was. Yuzuru’s heart was still a little raw, the wound still open because he poked and prodded at it so much it never had much chance to really close. Yuzuru sniffed. Remembering the worst year of his life wasn’t easy. “I was still recovering from accident, I was nervous, I was sick and in a lot of pain. I needed you. You threw me away and didn’t even tell me yourself.”

“You really think I threw you away?” Javier asked hoarsely. He looked tired, far more tired than he had when Yuzuru had first opened the door.

“I don’t know what to think.” Yuzuru let go of his legs, letting the unfurl back down towards the floor. “I don’t know what you want. Or what you were thinking.”

“What did you think back then?” Javier asked faintly.

“I thought you just wanted someone to fuck for the summer and I was stupid child falling in love when nothing was there.” It was satisfying to see Javier flinch at that. At least Yuzuru knew that assessment had been harsh. “All I could think of was you saying we could have fun.”

Javier cringed. Fun. The whole sentiment still wounded Yuzuru, as if he should’ve known all along it meant nothing and was bound to end quickly. Yuzuru saw the twinge of regret in Javier and wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

“What do you think now?”

“I don’t know.” Yuzuru shrugged miserably. “You always so sweet with me and always treating me softly. Looking at me. Saying things that hurt me.” Javier made a soft sound - like the words had physically struck him. Yuzuru looked down at his hand, picking at the bedsheet. “You say you think of me and feel things for me. It’s confusing.”

“Do you really think I’m just toying with you because I want someone to fool around with between girlfriends?” Javier asked, voice tight. Yuzuru had hit a nerve too, it seemed.

“Maybe.” Yuzuru met Javier’s eyes, saw the flicker of pain and sighed. “No. Not really. I don’t know.”

“I was scared. I thought you were too.” Javier leans forward, entering some of Yuzuru’s space, just barely. He moved to cover Yuzuru’s hand, but Yuzuru pulls away before he can. Javier almost sounds pleading, as he tries to explain. “I thought something short would be okay. I thought you wanted that too.”

Yuzuru worried his bottom lip with his teeth briefly. He might not get all the answers he needed now, but there was one question he had to ask. “If I told you how I felt, would it have made a difference?”

“I think so,” Javier said, even and sure. No hesitation. “Yes.”

Yuzuru brought his arms to loosely hug his body. “You said you don’t date boys.”

“I never wanted to before,” Javier admitted. “I wanted to with you. I wanted _everything_ with you.”

Yuzuru’s head spun. “Why didn’t you tell me? I wanted that too.”

“I was scared. I didn’t want to admit it. I was ashamed.” Javier shifted closer. Yuzuru hugged his body tighter. Ashamed. That word seemed so blunt and forceful it could leave a bruise.

Javier’s voice turned gentle, soft. “I thought you felt the same. None of your friends know, you haven’t told you parents--”

Javier placed a hand just above Yuzuru’s knee. Yuzuru jerked uncomfortably at the contact. Javier withdrew his hand, placing it beside Yuzuru’s leg on the bed instead, but he had crept even further into Yuzuru’s perimeter.

Javier continued, trying to make Yuzuru understand him. “It wasn’t that I didn’t care or that it meant nothing to me. I was just scared and thought it could never last without something bad happening and you seemed to think the same. We talked about the risks. You told me you had been too scared to be with anyone before. I thought you just wanted to try it with someone safe.”

Yuzuru’s eyes closed for a moment. Javier had thought Yuzuru just thought he was somehow less risky to be with, when Yuzuru had thought Javier had been worth that risk instead. It was natural that Yuzuru had been scared, part of him still was, but he was cautious. Not ashamed.  
A tear broke the barrier and started its journey down Yuzuru’s cheek.  
“I was in love with you.”

“Are you still?”

Yuzuru delayed, biting his tongue for a second. It wasn’t really a confession he was rushing to make. He wished more than anything that he had confessed his feelings earlier, when his love was full of joy and excitement. Not while it was a burden, embedded with thorns and wrapped in confusion.   
“You know I am.”

“I didn’t want to play you. I don’t want to play you now,” Javier told him earnestly. “I love you too.”

Yuzuru broke. This wasn’t how it should be. He wanted to hear those words for so long but everything was so wrong. Tears started to fall in a torrent, unstoppable, no holding them back. He wanted to hear Javier say he loved him and feel it fill him up, warm every inch of his skin. He had wanted to hear it and for it ease the hurt he had. It should’ve been something that brought him the purest most wonderful happiness. But it didn’t. Nothing was right. They had just been snapping angrily at each other, now Javier was saying the words Yuzuru needed earlier. Months earlier. Years earlier. The words should have been exchanged in a tender moment of affection, when the feeling swelled between them leaving them both unable to hold back the words.

Instead, they were shaky, rankled, riding waves of conflicting emotions. Yuzuru should’ve heard those words and only had Javier in his mind, but he was thinking of Shoma just down the hall - how he had been more comfortable and confident with the sapling romance they were just beginning to nurture.  
Yuzuru felt raw, face wet and sticky from the tracks of his tears. He felt Javier’s hand close over his own and the touch scalded him.

“I want us to try being together. Properly this time. Do things better,” Javier said, his voice a light whisper as if speaking too forcefully would be too much for Yuzuru; not thinking about the way he held Yuzuru’s face and wiped away tears from his cheeks was overwhelming. Too much. Too close. Yuzuru felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“I can’t.” Yuzuru gasped for air. “I can’t deal with this right now.”

“Yuzu-”

Yuzuru shook his head, trying to bat away the hands on his face, the tips of fingers lightly stroking his cheeks. Javier let his hands drop, but didn’t move out of Yuzuru’s space. Instead, his hands migrated to rub at the tops of Yuzuru’s arms. He was so upset, so lost.

“It’s not just you and me. Before we had to think about Miki.” Yuzuru took a few breaths, trying to calm himself. He raised his eyes to Javier’s. “Now I have to think about Shoma.”

It didn’t feel fair, somehow. Javier was asking Yuzuru to leave Shoma, to kill their relationship before it really had a chance to live, without knowing what they had. Yuzuru knew he had to consider it before but now it was laid out for him definitively. Had had to choose.

“We can work it out,” Javier said, his tone trying to soothe but also trying to convince. “I want to try to work it out.”

Javier edged forwards again, arms coming around Yuzuru, tugging him into a hug. Yuzuru tried to protest, but it came out as little more than a sob. Tried to push away, but his hands got trapped against Javier’s chest.

That was the thing with him. Javier had once been good at reading Yuzuru’s mood and knowing when he needed tight hugs and soft touches but he was awful at decoding when Yuzuru _didn’t_ want that. Javier had asked for permission to touch and hold early in their friendship and seemed to take the permission Yuzuru gave back then to mean it was always okay and always what he needed. He never picked up on when Yuzuru was upset because of him, when the affection he intended to make Yuzuru feel better just made him feel claustrophobic or angry or like he would shatter in Javier’s arms.

That’s how Yuzuru felt then - as if he were made out of glass and cracking at every point of contact. He was stiff and unyielding in Javier’s embrace. Too hot. Too sensitive.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” Javier whispered against Yuzuru’s temple. “I love you so much. I just want to make you happy. If I can.”

“I’m with Shoma,” Yuzuru said lamely. He needed to get away. He needed to get out of Javier’s arms. He needed to process, to think. He pulled back.

Javier let Yuzuru slip away, but kept hold of his arms, running down to hold Yuzuru's hands. “You love me.”

“You're not fair,” Yuzuru choked.

He had wanted this. Despite himself, despite everything, Yuzuru had wanted this. He had wanted to hear Javier tell him that he never meant to hurt him, that the time spent dating had been real and had meant something to Javier but mistakes were made and misunderstandings arose. Yuzuru wanted to hear Javier say that he wanted to learn and try and make it better. Four months ago.

Yuzuru had been close. So close. He had been at least starting to let go and move on. Seemed every time he took a step forward in that regard he had a habit of forcefully throwing himself three steps backwards. First in holding onto the memories the photographs, refusing to let go. It got to the point where Yuzuru couldn’t figure out if he was really in love with Javier; his friend, his rival, his playmate, or if he was in love with what they could have been. He couldn’t decipher if he missed what they had been or if he longed the idea of being with Javier. He wasn’t sure if it was the few months of being together - same as always, friends, but more open and honest, more intimate and close - or the idea of Javier being his safe space to crawl into whenever he needed comfort. Javier could be who he shared his happiness with, he could wipe away his tears, help him shoulder burdens. Yuzuru had learned to be his own strength through hardships, he didn’t need anyone to hold him up. Yuzuru had been pulling himself through hard times, holding onto hope and making himself stronger, since he was fifteen. Whether he needed it or not, a partner to support him would be welcome. Javier had already been that for years as a friend, a teammate. He could do more as a lover.  
But. So could Shoma.

Yuzuru wondered how it could have been different. If he had never turned to Shoma as a new companion, as an escape, when his friendship with Javier seemed difficult maybe Shoma would never have developed feelings for him. If Shoma had never confessed, if they had never started taking tentative steps together towards dating, Yuzuru knew he would feel very differently right now. He wouldn’t have argued with Javier now.  
If Javier had told him in January that he had broken up with Miki, maybe Yuzuru wouldn’t have accepted Shoma’s confession the way he did. Yuzuru wasn’t sure if that was entirely true, though. Afterall, he liked Shoma a lot. He felt things for Shoma too. But he maybe wouldn’t have progressed their relationship. The need to make a decision between the two of them would have just been brought forwards, with maybe less chance of Shoma getting hurt.  
Javier was offering another shot at being together, and Yuzuru knew he would take it. If things were different.

If Yuzuru hadn’t almost kissed Javier in France, if they hadn’t both let slip that they still felt for each other… Maybe Javier wouldn’t have left Miki. Yuzuru would continue seeing Shoma, see if they could make it work through the off season, and move on. Yuzuru thought about how good the week had been when he had let the situation with Javier slip his mind and just let himself enjoy the shifting relationship with Shoma.   
Shoma wasn’t pushing him. They both were letting their relationship unfurl slowly, naturally. It had been pleasant to give himself to that process for a few days.

Yuzuru asked Javier to leave. It was a process to get him to listen and go, but he did eventually.

“Think about it,” Javier urged before he left. As if Yuzuru could think of anything else. AS if he hadn’t been trying to weigh up his options for months already.

Yuzuru lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. There was a fork in the road. He didn’t know where to go.

He closed his eyes and tried to sleep. Exhausted. He couldn’t.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, with the season nearly here I feel a little less worried about running out of content lol. Fighting @ me
> 
> Comments sustain me. Please scream at me.


	16. Clarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuzuru is in a fog. He really doesn't want to be. Javier tries again. Shoma starts to open up.

**Clarity**

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”  
Yuzuru nodded his head. Truthfully he was not completely sure, but it seemed like the best option he had. He screwed up his mouth briefly. “Do you think it is bad choice?”

“No.” Tracy smiled at him, the warm and motherly smile she so often had for him. Tracy was an important person to Yuzuru; he liked the warm way her eyes would crinkle when she smiled at him, the soothing tone of her voice, her sense of humour. She was gentle but straightforward. He knew he could rely on her to be honest, firm but not harsh. Brian was similar, but he could be more unyielding. His response to Yuzuru being unsure would just be to question why Yuzuru was uncertain until he was just defending himself out of sheer stubbornness. That wasn’t really what Yuzuru wanted right now. Tracy knew that. She had a gift for reading people, understanding them. When Yuzuru had been recovering from his injury and frustrated during the period when he could just about jump singles, she had been most effective at helping him work through it. She helped him work to build himself back up.  
Tracy folded her hands on her lap, leaning forward, her voice was soft and reassuring. “You thought about it a lot, and I think it’s a very good decision.”

Yuzuru had thought about it a lot. He had been mulling it over since Worlds, all the way through Team Trophy, in the two days he and Shoma were at a camp for Olympics hype and the two days he spent in Sendai resting with his family. When he returned to Toronto for a little time to lay out his plans for the offseason, he told Brian his decision. He would go back to Ballade for his short program.

He knew it was a decision that would not be without criticism, but no choice he made would make everyone happy. If he kept his short program from the previous season, some would question that choice for how wrought with mental blocks it became in the second half of the year. If he got an entirely new program, there would be some people that wouldn’t like it, and there was the risk of it not going well. There were risks with Ballade too — that the successes of its previous outings would be a burden and that it being used for a third season would cause audiences to disengage; especially considering he always had, and still, planned to use the free program from the same season as Ballade’s second run. But these were risks Yuzuru believed he could alleviate. The layout would be upgraded for both programs; the step sequences would be altered to rectify past issues with obtaining levels...  
The potential rewards and the likelihood of obtaining those rewards outweighed the downside of criticism for repeating programs.

“You’ve grown since Boston,” Brian had told Yuzuru, sensing some of Yuzuru’s fears tied to the choice. “As a skater, performer and person. Both of these programs deserve to be at the Olympics.”

It was tough, to decide to go back to these particular programs. Even if it was the best option for a season of high stakes, even if there were so many reasons it was a good idea.

Yuzuru still wanted to show forward progression. He had to go back but not regress, and improve on performances that were widely regarded as close to perfection. He had proven at Worlds that he could outscore those performances, but that had been mostly through technical improvement. He hadn’t outscored himself on grade of execution or in program components. He would have to match his best in those areas, or beat them, and deliver a more difficult technical layout to fully escape the shadow of those previous performances.

  
Yuzuru closed his eyes briefly, taking in a deep breath of the familiar cool air of his Toronto rink.  
He had a little time to himself before his only ice shows of the summer. A sliver of time alone.

The benefit of returning to familiar music was precisely that: the familiarity. Yuzuru knew every note, every cue. He knew the steps, even where things could be moved or changed or added. He knew the feel of the music, the timbre, the nuances he could bring out in the lines of his body and the gestures of his hands. He didn’t have to think so much about projecting a character for this music; he could instead focus entirely on the quality of what he was doing.

It was the same for the free program. The music was like an old friend, the character already outlined and fleshed out. The time on the ice with those programs was a space he had already carved out once before. He could build upon it, enhance it. There was more room to direct his focus to the details. He could hold these programs in his hands and make them better than they had been before. Bring them forwards with him; move some parts around, add some steps, try new jumps. So long as he wasn’t flustering the interpretation would be there because he could skate his soul. As himself. Show his own colour.

He needed that this season. Olympics seasons had high pressure and high expectations. Yuzuru was entering this one in a vastly different position to last; the defending Olympic champion, World Champion. He hoped he could hold on to his Grand Prix title for another year and reclaim his National title too.  
He had struggled with the pressure last time, and he hadn’t been the favourite to win. Now the pressure had increased tenfold. He had to hold it together.

If Yuzuru was to show the apex of his skating so far, this was how he would do it.

It felt controlled and calming. Even when reworking the steps to make way for a more challenging layout, it was like returning home. Yuzuru had ended the season with his confidence in his short program shaken, but hearing the soft opening notes of piano filled the cracks that had formed, smoothed them over.

The feeling reminded Yuzuru of something Shoma had told him at World’s as they guiltily ate a slice of cake Shoma had squirrelled away from another table. Nerves had gotten to Yuzuru in the short program, and got to Javier in the free, but Shoma seemed unshakable even though his regular state was usually more on the anxious side. Yuzuru had awed at that. Shoma had wrinkled his nose dismissively.

“I dunno. I freaked out at Nationals.” Shoma stabbed at the cake and smiled at Yuzuru. “Usually when I’m skating I don’t have to think about anything else. I just think about skating.”

It almost made Yuzuru laugh. Before Sochi, skating had made Yuzuru feel so overwhelmed from the stress he fell into Javier for comfort. Now it was all reversed. Skating, as much pressure as Yuzuru had from the looming Olympics, was a refuge from having to deal with Javier and Shoma and the mess he had blundered into.

Yuzuru could do that with this music; drop all other thoughts at the edge of the ice and fill his mind entirely with the task at hand. That was as much part of his training as anything else. He had an unfortunate tendency of losing focus and getting distracted or over thinking and falling apart, so trying to keep a clear mind was as valuable as training jumps or spins. At a point in time where some areas of his life felt in complete disarray, and he had no idea what to do, it was nice to have programs that were already worked out.

Oddly, focusing on the Olympic season was something of a comfort, in that manner. He wasn’t eighteen with no idea what to expect anymore. He still had rather grandiose goals for the season, but he had already done it once. He just had to do it again. It would be hard, the competition was tight, but it wasn’t outside of his capabilities. The fear of failure would always be there in the back of his mind, but he had to believe he could control it.

Yuzuru slipped into his camel spin, counting his revolutions, listening to the music, changing position on the note, raising a hand in a flourish in tandem with the music. Timing was so important. If you got the timing of an element wrong, it could throw off the rhythm of the whole program, and everything would fall apart. Timing issues were how jumps got popped or ended in falls. Timing issues could lead to transition steps becoming sloppy, levels being lost on sequences and GOE lost on spins.  
Yuzuru could time everything perfectly. He would have so much time over the summer to train, to practice and refine. He knew the music inside out. He felt it in his bones.  
He exited the camel spin and transitioned into a sit spin. This part would need some work to make it flow with the music, but for now, it was okay. Yuzuru changed position as the music shifted.  
Timing was so crucial.

Yuzuru enjoyed piano music. If he had the time, he wanted to learn how to play. He had learned a little in school but always had too many other things to do, other places to be, was too restless and impatient to direct energy into learning how to play the piano properly. Maybe after he retired from competitions, he would indulge himself and pick up playing the piano as a new pursuit. When he was older and had the patience to learn.

If his relationship with Javier were a piece of music, it would be something fast, jarring, dramatic. Something with the tempo always changing, the mood constantly shifting; something formless and wandering. Discordant in the way it would swing from warm and happy — full of jokes and smiles to a jangle of shouting and tears and confusion.  
Yuzuru knew it couldn’t be left like that. They needed to give their relationship a direction. One way or another.  
Shoma was a little more structured, but they had only just started to play the opening notes — soft, slow, gently building. Still freeform, incomplete, unclear as to how it would take shape.

It felt as if Yuzuru had been trying to play two songs at the same time only to have Javier come in and start slamming his hands on the keys at random. Nothing made sense; everything was just a noisy cacophony. Rather than picking which piece to work on, Yuzuru just wanted to walk away from the metaphorical piano and go somewhere silent.

Yuzuru drifted over to where Brian and Jeffrey stood watching once the music ended.

“Run through is okay, right?” Yuzuru grinned. “Feel confident already.”

“That’s good.” Brian nodded, clearly pleased. “How do you feel about this layout?”

“Is good. Last jump is a little hard, but energy is okay.” Yuzuru took a sip of his water. “Can maybe change transition for challenge.”

Brian chuckled at that, shooting an amused sideways glance at Jeffrey.

“We can work on changing parts of the choreography while we’re touring, maybe a little afterwards too,” Jeffrey suggested, sharing Yuzuru’s thoughts that the program had some roughness where elements had been re-arranged. That was why Yuzuru liked working with Jeffrey so much — they understood each other, they were on the same wavelength.

Yuzuru went to run through one more time, skipping the jumps but the last to conserve his energy for the steps. For this season to be successful, Yuzuru had to be careful not to repeat past mistakes. Where he had once recklessly pushed himself and ignored the signs that his body was straining, he had to be cautious. Now wasn’t the time to risk injury. Problems couldn’t be ignored, or else they would grow all the more devastating. He had spent all of last summer and most of the year dealing with the consequences of hiding and overlooking the pain in his foot. He couldn’t risk that again.

He knew he had to apply that to other areas of his life too. He couldn’t hide from Shoma and Javier forever and pushing the problem aside, holding it back, avoiding dealing with it had let the situation grow out of control. He had to deal with it, somehow, or else he would lose both of them.  
Yuzuru felt somewhat guilty that after World Team Trophy had ended he had pretended nothing had happened and nothing was wrong. He hadn’t talked to Javier since he had walked out of Yuzuru’s hotel room. And through the days he stayed in Japan, doing interviews and camp with Shoma, Yuzuru had not mentioned arguing with Javier or feeling off—kilter. It was wrong to keep Shoma in the dark, but Yuzuru wasn’t sure what to tell him. Or how to tell him without making Shoma feel horrifically insecure.

> I’m sorry.

Yuzuru stared at the two short words on his phone until they lost all meaning. What was Javier sorry for? For being angry? For being jealous? For saying he loved Yuzuru two years too late when the timing was atrocious?  
Yuzuru didn’t know how to respond. He considered not replying at all. That wouldn’t be helpful. Not when they were going to spend three weeks touring together.

> I’m sorry too.

***

Yuzuru loved competing. It was stressful sometimes, sure. There had been a growing pressure around competing that had steadily grown with the weight of outsider expectation as more and more eyes settled on him from the time he was fourteen right up to now. The longer he competed, the more titles he collected, the more he achieved, the heavier that weight got, but it didn’t completely spoil the experience for him. He still did it, because he wanted to. He wasn’t obligated to do anything, no matter how much meaning he placed on his career, it was always his choice. If things got too hard, if it was too much and he didn’t want to do it anymore he could quit. He didn’t want to.  
There was a rush to competing that couldn’t be matched by anything else. One day Yuzuru would give it up. But not yet.

Ice shows had a different feeling. Like a taste of what it would be like to be a professional. Galas after competitions had an aura of celebration and winding down after the main event, but ice shows were purely for entertainment. No real pressure, an opportunity to test out programs in front of a crowd, time to have fun performing. Yuzuru had missed it last year. When he arrived in Makuhari, he was excited to start the nine shows he would do through the next few weeks. Maybe it would be awkward, practising and performing with Shoma and Javi and Miki all in one space but there would be other people around for social refuge if Yuzuru needed it.

Yuzuru stood in the hotel room he’d be using for the week and stared at the two beds, then turned to face Shoma, who was chewing his lip with hands tucked inside his sleeves. It was more convenient for the organisers to have them share rooms through the tour. It made sense that the two of them would be put together. It was pretty surprising this hadn’t happened sooner.

They dithered for a moment until Yuzuru finally dragged his suitcase towards the bed closest to the window and Shoma settled on the one that was left. They wouldn’t bother unpacking. Shoma just opened his suitcase to dig into it as and when he needed to, while Yuzuru took out something to sleep in and what he would wear the next morning for practice.

Yuzuru could tell Shoma was unsettled but couldn’t be entirely sure as to why. He waited, until they both had some time to settle and they were sat with nothing to do on their respective beds before he pushed for Shoma to talk beyond the soft, short responses he had gotten so far.

“Are you okay?” Yuzuru asked, “You’re really quiet.”

“Hm?” Shoma looked up, pausing. He waved his arm, hands still hidden beneath his sleeve. “It’s nothing. I’m just.” He gestured vaguely, starting to look more bashful, chewing his bottom lip again. “We’ve never shared a room before.”

“It’ll be fun.” Yuzuru smiled, leaning back against the headboard of his bed, drawing his legs up to get comfortable. “I’m maybe a little worried we’ll enable each other to game all night, though. I usually have Nobu nag me to sleep.”

Shoma smiled weakly, laughing a little breathlessly. Yuzuru wondered if it would be easier if they had shared a room at least once before, before their relationship started to change. He was a bit nervous himself, to be sharing a room with Shoma through the tour. It maybe wasn’t ideal. But it could be worse. Yuzuru at least felt like he could trust himself around Shoma.  
Shoma looked down, fingers fiddling inside his sleeves. Yuzuru didn’t want to find Shoma’s discomfort so endearing, he preferred when Shoma was less awkward, but there was something very, very cute about how he was sat.

“I’m a bit worried I’ll do something wrong,” Shoma admitted quietly.

Yuzuru frowned. “Like what?”

“I dunno.” Shoma shrugged his shoulders, looking at Yuzuru through his eyelashes.

Even the strongest man would melt at that kind of look. Yuzuru felt a kind of internal tug, like he was magnetically drawn towards Shoma, to comfort him in some way. Yuzuru supposed this was how Javier felt so frequently with Yuzuru. A persistent urge to touch, to hold, to be close.

Yuzuru got off his bed and moved over to Shoma’s, sitting beside him and pulling him into a loose, one-armed hug. Shoma buried his face against Yuzuru’s shoulder. Clearly a touch embarrassed.

“Shoma,” Yuzuru started. He lightly stroked at Shoma’s side, feeling how he shivered against him. “There’s pretty much nothing I can think of that you could accidentally do that will stop me from liking you.”

Shoma lifted his head. “What if I snore?”

Yuzuru snorted, happy to see a small amused smile growing on Shoma’s face. This was what he wanted, the Shoma he liked the most; joking and mischievous. “You think I don’t?

“I won’t hold it against you,” Shoma said, some of the tension leaving his voice. He shifted, so they were more leaning into each other rather than hugging. “I know breathing isn’t exactly your strongest point.”

Yuzuru jostled Shoma with his elbow, tutting. “Mean.”

Shoma laughed, wiggling when Yuzuru’s hand returned to his waist and stroked up his side again, as if he didn’t know whether he wanted to press closer to the touch or escape it entirely. Yuzuru rubbed with a firmer touch, and Shoma seemed to stop resisting, melting against Yuzuru’s side.

“I don’t really snore,” Shoma said lightly, shifting closer to rest his cheek against Yuzuru’s shoulder. “I don’t think I do anyway. No one has ever told me if I do anything weird in my sleep.”

Yuzuru hummed, amused. “I’m a bit restless sometimes, but I don’t think I’ll bother you unless we share a bed.”

Shoma wheezed, which just made Yuzuru want to laugh. He could practically feel the heat from the flush of colour in Shoma’s face through his t-shirt.  
Yuzuru briefly imagined sleeping beside Shoma, holding Shoma from behind. He rather liked just how much smaller Shoma was; he pictured being able to completely envelop his body and hold him tight and waking up to see his sleep-lax face.

He liked those moments in the morning, when everything seemed quiet and intimate. He remembered how it was to sleep beside Javier, to kiss goodnight and feel the warmth of Javier’s body all around him. He remembered how Javier would laugh at his hair sticking up at all angles in the morning and fondly run his fingers through it, kissing Yuzuru’s cheeks. He could remember the times when Javier would groan at the alarm and bury his face against Yuzuru’s neck, obstinately clinging on for five, ten more minutes in bed. He wondered if Shoma would be like that. If they would loiter in bed a little longer than they should, just for that feeling of time standing still another nothing else existing outside the two of them. Yuzuru wanted that. He wanted to know what it would be like.

Yuzuru closed his eyes for a moment, fingertips tracing circles through Shoma’s t-shirt. He was glad, in a way, that Shoma didn’t seem to take them sharing a room as an opportunity to immediately push their relationship forward in one way or another. For a while, as they had stared at the two beds, it was like they were both waiting for the other to make some suggestion to share or push the beds together, and Shoma seemed somewhat relieved when Yuzuru had eventually just picked which one he’d take.  
The situation just didn’t feel right. Even with them just leaning against each other, Yuzuru’s arms around Shoma’s waist and Shoma comfortable nestled against his shoulder, made Yuzuru feel...odd. As if Javier was stood in the corner of the room looking at them. Yuzuru maybe didn’t want to bring his relationship with Shoma to a full stop, but he didn’t feel capable of taking it any further either. Not until he spoke to Javier again. Not until he had some idea of what he was going to do.

He felt Shoma shudder, ever-so-slightly, against him and a warm puff of breath against his neck. He wanted to be close, wanted to hold, wanted to just enjoy the time they had together, but everything was messed up.

“That tickles,” Shoma mumbled. Yuzuru smiled, in half a mind to start tickling Shoma properly, to break the weird tension and hear him laugh. Instead he stilled his fingers.

“You know we said if our feelings changed. If we decided we wanted to date properly, we’d tell each other?” Yuzuru asked quietly. His voice came out a little rough, like his throat was dry.

Shoma nodded against Yuzuru’s shoulder. “Yeah?”

“You’ll tell me straight away, right?”

“Yeah. of course.” Shoma lifted his head to look at Yuzuru. “Why?”

“I was just wondering why you’re waiting?” Yuzuru could practically see the run of thoughts whizzing behind Shoma’s eyes. Yuzuru faltered. “I’m not...I don’t mean––I'm just curious.”

Shoma chewed the inside of his lip, that endearing way he did whenever he really thought about what he was going to say. “I dunno if you’ve noticed but I’m not really the most relaxed person.” Shoma’s hands slipped back inside his sleeves. “Especially when it comes to dealing with people.”

Yuzuru removed himself from Shoma’s waist but didn’t move away. He just let that hand rest on the bed, holding his weight a little, so he wasn’t leaning against Shoma quite so much. “You got a lot better with me.”

Shoma smiled, able to look up and meet his eyes. “Yeah. You got easier to be around but...It takes me a while. To adjust.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Yuzuru returned the smile and saw the way Shoma’s body seemed to leak out the discomfort he had been holding in. Yuzuru had thought, overall, Shoma was doing a good job of adjusting as their friendship got closer and started to shift after Shoma confessed, but he didn’t know how Shoma was whenever they weren’t together. Shoma was open, honest, straight-forward in all the ways that were a relief to Yuzuru after the tangled mess of miscommunication he had with Javier. But that didn’t mean Yuzuru saw the whole picture. Yuzuru found being around Shoma easy, but it still required effort. If Yuzuru was something of an omnivert, Shoma was a pure introvert. Socialising could just be draining. Even if he was doing a good job of it, it still required effort and effort was tiring.

“Also...We’re together a lot for now,” Shoma murmured, scuffing his foot against the floor. “We had a bunch of competitions together, and now we have this. But after these shows, it’s offseason.”  
Shoma paused, lips pursed for just a split second. “You go to Toronto to train, and I have more shows and training…I guess I want to see if it works out when we’re not around each other so much.”

“Makes sense.” Yuzuru nodded. It was a relief to hear an actual reason that was entirely Shoma — his way of thinking, his concerns that were entirely valid and made sense and were from him. “I just. I didn’t want you to just be holding off for me.”

Shoma shook his head. “‘I’m not. I mean. That’s part of it too but—” He stopped, pausing, taking a breath to gather his thoughts. Yuzuru liked that about Shoma. He always thought about what he was saying before he said it. Shoma met Yuzuru’s eyes, a little shy. “I like things how they are for now.’

“I like it too,” Yuzuru said without hesitation. “I like where things are going.”

“I guess I want to be sure,” Shoma started, looking back down, stopping for just a moment, mouth scrunched cutely to one side. “That you won’t change your mind if we’re not seeing each other for a while.”

“Shoma… ”  
That stung. That was the kind of train of thought Yuzuru didn’t want to encourage, but it wasn’t exactly something Yuzuru could argue against. He wished he could.

“I mean there’s offseason, and then GP. The final and Nationals are five months away.” Shoma’s fingers fumbled, toying with the edges of his sleeves. His posture seemed to curl up, as if he wanted to soften what he was saying. “We could both lose interest if we’re not seeing each other for that long.”

“True.” Yuzuru nodded. There was no telling where Yuzuru would be mentally, emotionally, in five months time. There was no telling where their relationship would be; they could decide to be friends or fall back into being little more than acquaintances. Or maybe Yuzuru would learn more about Shoma, get closer, or at least be ready to get closer. “We were good at staying in touch last year, though.”

Shoma smiled. “We were.”

“We can do that again.”  
Messaging, video calls… Even if they couldn’t be together physically, it’s not like they couldn’t continue talking to each other. Connecting. It could even be easier with some space, in some ways.

“I guess I just— I would understand if it wasn’t enough.” Shoma shrugged. “I don’t exactly have a lot of experience. Dating.”

Yuzuru eyed Shoma curiously. “But some?”

Shoma nodded, not meeting Yuzuru’s eyes. “Some. But no one special. Like you.”

Something in Yuzuru twisted. He had thought, maybe, that Shoma’s shyness came from a lack of experience. But that wasn’t it. It wasn’t as simple or straightforward as Yuzuru simply being Shoma’s first...whatever. He would have to ask what came before him, but now he at least saw that Shoma’s caution came from him placing so much meaning, so much feeling, onto Yuzuru. It made Yuzuru feel breathless. It made him want to be more careful too. He had considered that Shoma was possibly downplaying his feelings, but having that subtly confirmed was different.

Shoma tilted his head. “Anyway. You said you needed time to think.”

“‘I just want to be sure too,” Yuzuru said quietly. He could feel Shoma’s eyes on him, waiting for an explanation. Yuzuru licked his lips. “I used to date Javi.’”

“Oh?”

“Just for a few months.” Yuzuru met Shoma’s gaze. His eyes were inquisitive, but he didn’t push. Just waited.  
Shoma needed to know. Deserved to know. Maybe Yuzuru didn’t need to hear the details of people Shoma had dated in the past, whether it be one or two or more. Shoma had already said everything Yuzuru could need to hear — they weren’t special. It was in the past. Javier was special, and he was still very much in the present.  
Yuzuru lowered his eyes. “It wasn’t what I thought it was. I wanted it to be something serious.”

“Oh.”

“I was really hurt when I found out he was dating Miki,” Yuzuru confessed softly, almost a whisper.

“But you still seem really close?” Shoma asked, a little confused.

“I wanted to stay friends, so I pretended I wasn’t hurt. He only found out recently.” Yuzuru closed his eyes and forced a smile. A sad, regretful kind of smile. “It felt like the right thing to do at the time, but I’m starting to think it wasn’t.”  
Shoma said nothing, just listened. Yuzuru feared that maybe Shoma would feel threatened. Insecure. But right now all Yuzuru saw was empathy. Yuzuru let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.  
“I didn’t get over him the way I should have. Because we misunderstood each other. And because I wanted to stay close. I held on too long.”

“Everyone does things in their own time,” Shoma told him, soft and even. Yuzuru couldn’t help but smile at him, less sad than before, less strained.

“With Javi we kind of...rushed,” Yuzuru explained, uncomfortable but wanting to be clear. “I don’t want us to rush. I don’t want us to have the same kind of misunderstandings.”

Shoma’s expression softened. “You’re scared you’ll get hurt again?”

“I’m scared of hurting you too,” Yuzuru confessed, voice quiet. “That’s why I’m going slow.”

“We can match each other’s pace.” Shoma gave Yuzuru the gentlest of smiles, hands peeking out from under his sleeves again. He let one rest close to Yuzuru’s — close, but not touching.

Yuzuru slid his hand over to stroke Shoma’s knuckles. That odd feeling Yuzuru had, like Javier’s spectre was hovering over him, dissipated somewhat. “I guess we already do.”

Shoma grinned, visibly relaxing. Yuzuru leaned back into him, briefly pressing his nose into Shoma’s hair.  
“Do you want to shower first or…”

“Do I smell?” Shoma asked, a bit alarmed. Yuzuru laughed.

“No,” Yuzuru assured, shaking his head. “It’s just. We have practice in the morning and I’m kinda tired from my flight, so—”

“You can shower first if you want,” Shoma burst out. “I don’t mind.”

“Rock, paper, scissors for it?” Yuzuru held out his first, grinning. Shoma rolled his eyes.

“Fine.”

“Best of three.” Yuzuru shifted, so they were facing each other more instead of sitting side-by-side.  
Yuzuru, maybe, had an agenda.

Shoma won the first round and flicked Yuzuru’s forehead as punishment. Yuzuru pouted.  
Yuzuru won the second time. Shoma squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for Yuzuru to flick him in retaliation. Instead, Yuzuru leant forwards and lightly pressed his lips to Shoma’s. Short. Sweet. Shoma’s eyes snapped open. There was no obligation to kiss Shoma, to touch him, to do anything or act any particular way around him. Yuzuru kissed him because he wanted to and he could. It was that simple.

Yuzuru raised his first one more time. Last round.  
Shoma smirked. Paper covers rock. He flicked Yuzuru squarely in the middle of his forehead and stood up to dig a change of clothes out of his suitcase.

“I win.”

***

The show rink was a little smaller than standard rinks. This was to be expected, but it took some getting used to. The general plan was they’d sort out the opening and closing group order, and choreography then take turns doing run-throughs and practices. There wouldn’t be a whole lot of time to work on his program, but Jeffrey had, at least, said he would watch Yuzuru’s run through to make a note of parts that might need some work later. The ice shows were just a place to get it out in front of an audience and see what worked outside of the context of practice and training. With competitions you had just one chance, if you messed up, you couldn’t do it over. Ice shows were a little more forgiving since you weren’t being scored at the end of it, but you still just had that one chance to perform well, to give the audience the show they paid for. Most would maybe opt for easier jumps to lessen the strain and increase the chances of a smoother performance. Yuzuru wasn’t going to do that. He knew what layout he was likely to use for the season; he might as well practice it and do it as planned from the start.

“Yuzu!” Nobu bellows for maybe the third time in five minutes. “Watch this!”

This was rather normal whenever Nobu and Yuzuru were together; despite being quite a bit older, Nobu was bright, bubbly and energetic and seemed to bounce off Yuzuru. He without fail brought out Yuzuru’s more playful side by never failing to go along with and low—key encourage whatever mischief Yuzuru came up with.

Yuzuru watches as Nobu picks up speed on the ice, sets up and lands a quad lutz. His jaw drops a little. It maybe wasn’t the prettiest landing, but he didn’t fall. Nobu beamed and skated over to him.

“What the hell,” Yuzuru said, face contorting into a mash-up between a playful scowl and a smile. “You’re gonna come out of retirement to take the gold from me, aren’t you?”

Nobu rolled his neck, just a little bit proud. “Ey, I couldn’t do that in a million years.” He leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a stage whisper. “Your learning it too, right? Show me.”

Yuzuru groaned, “I’ve not really been practising it much. The success rate is still pretty low.”

“So modest,” Nobu chortled.

Yuzuru gave in. The plan was to play with some jumps in training and see if anything was worth adding when the season started. Really with the loop, the salchow and the toe-loop and the plan to put three quads in the second half of the free program, a new quad would not be completely necessary. If Yuzuru was willing to lose a triple axel to the repetition rule. But with so many quads on the field, with the competition being as tight as it was and Shoma considering raising his own technical difficulty...a quad that was more valuable points wise was potentially worth it. But only really if Yuzuru could land it with some consistency.

Yuzuru went for the lutz and fell. He knew when he took off he was going to fall, luckily, so he could at least direct himself to take the impact well. Frustrated, Yuzuru got up and tried one more time. He landed two-footed. Good enough for now.

Yuzuru skated back over to Nobu, now joined by Shoma, who had briefly abandoned Marin to copy Nobu’s silent applause.

Yuzuru grimaced at Nobu. “Told you. I’m not practising it seriously yet.”

“You’ve got a good edge at least,” Shoma said. If Yuzuru didn’t know better, he would think Shoma was either being charitable or maybe even teasing. But Shoma didn’t exactly have the greatest lutz.

Yuzuru grinned at him. “Maybe if you try for the quad your triple will get better.”

Nobu clapped his hands together as if that were a great idea. Shoma stuck out his tongue and retreated back to Marin and Anna.

It was a bit too much, all the people around. Shoma was a bit more comfortable with the girls closer to his own age. They had made a kind of unspoken agreement to not stick to each other at practice. With them sharing a hotel room too, that could get pretty claustrophobic pretty fast. Yuzuru let Shoma come to him, and wander away again freely. Being around one person too much wasn’t a problem he really had, but Shoma did. It obviously didn’t mean they’d avoid each other through the day, but they didn’t exactly need to be glued at the hip.

Nobu leaned close again, this time dropping his voice to an actual whisper. “You gonna show me your axel too?”

Yuzuru shoved him. “No way. That’s top secret.”

All the skaters gathered when they were signalled to start doing the actual work they were here for. Warmed up and ready, they started working out how the show would do. It was always interesting to see the way everyone’s mood shifted from relaxed and casual to professional. There was still time for fun though — catching Shoma’s eye as they went through the choreography, laughing silently at the face he pulled to express his total hopelessness at following the directions.

From time to time, Yuzuru could feel Javier’s eyes on him. They still hadn’t spoken to each other, besides some rather stiff greetings. It was a strange, unfamiliar situation. Yuzuru watched as Javier talked to Luca, eyes crinkling as he smiled. Yuzuru wanted to go over, slip into the conversation and join in on the laughter. He longed to just be...normal; to ask Javier about his trip home and his summer plans, tell him about the little public coaching session he would do and how he nervous he was. He wanted Javier’s advice, his opinion, his soft laughter. But it was too awkward. There was a vast chasm between them of things that had been said, and things that were yet to be said. The hotel room in Tokyo seemed to stand between them. Yuzuru ached to cross it — cross the rink and go to Javier, cross the emotional no-man’s-land that seemed to put miles between them even as the stood beside each other to run through the choreography. He wondered if Javier felt the same, when Yuzuru was laughing with Nobu and caught him looking. Yuzuru wondered if Javier cringed whenever Yuzuru watched him talk to Miki, the way Yuzuru cringed whenever he spoke to Shoma and felt Javier’s gaze burning into him.

It wasn’t an obvious problem. It wasn’t as if they were drawing attention to the fact things weren’t right between them. They were distanced, but not so cold towards each other than anyone else would feel it.

“I’m gonna do the original dance!” Yuzuru grinned at Nobu, after the first run through of the opening number, making sure everyone knew what order they would enter the ice in. Nobu looked amused. “Just come out like—” Yuzuru struck a pose. Marin laughed. Half the cast of Japanese skaters had, unintentionally, formed a little gaggle at the side of the rink as they took a break.

Akiko wrinkled her nose at him, teasing. “Do you even know it? Isn’t Exile a little before your time?”

Yuzuru pouted a little, cocking his head to the side. “I remember this song,”

Akiko raised her eyebrows, smiling. “Really? You couldn’t have been older than seven when it came out.”

“I have no idea what this song is.” Marin shrugged. Unsurprising, given how young she was.

Shoma bobbed his head. “Me neither.”

“I’m so old,” Nobu whined pitifully. Shoma bit his tongue but shot Marin a look.

Yuzuru batted at Nobu’s shoulder, like a cat watching to play. Yuzuru always felt comfortable to be a bit bratty with Nobu because he knew that Nobu loved it. “Do you know the dance?”

“No?” Nobu screwed up his face to think about it for a moment. “Maybe something like this?”

What was demonstrated was some rather enthusiastic flailing that made Marin give out a shriek of laughter and Shoma cover his eyes in second-hand embarrassment. Yuzuru clapped, pleased. Akiko rolled her eyes.

“I’m gonna learn it,” Yuzuru proclaimed, to Nobu’s absolute approval. “Sho, you’re gonna have to put up with me learning choreography all night.”

Shoma snorted. “At least I’ll be entertained.”

“You should learn it with him,” Nobu suggested, clasping his hands together dreamily. “World gold and silver dancing together.”

Shoma vehemently shook his head. “I’m barely going to remember the group choreography as it is.”

***

They finished up the practice and cooled down. Yuzuru grabbed a bucket of ice and flitted around the rink to find holes from where toe picks had struck the ice to jump. The show had staff to fix up the ice, but it didn’t hurt to help them. Yuzuru heard the glide of blades behind him before the body entered his periphery. Javier slowed down, matched his pace, slowly drifting beside him.

“Hi,” Yuzuru greeted, eyes still scanning the ice for nicks.

“Hey,” Javier said with a sigh. He sounded as strained and awkward as Yuzuru felt.

Yuzuru cleared his throat. “You have plan after this?”

“No,” Javier replied. “Do you?”

Yuzuru shook his head, getting some ice from the bucket to push into a crack. Javier watched him, waited. Yuzuru stood up and finally looked at Javier’s expectant face. “Can we go somewhere? To talk.”

Javier nodded stiffly. “That would be good.”

They meandered around the ice in silence, taking turns to fill the holes they found before calling the job done and leaving the rink. They left together, boots in bags, and moved to somewhere private.  
Finding a private place to talk was not quite as easy as it maybe could have been. They weren’t in Toronto where they could just go to a café and find a quiet corner, confident they weren’t be noticed or disturbed. There was the hotel, but they were sharing rooms, and Yuzuru didn’t want another talk in another hotel room where it felt like things could go awry in one direction or another.  
They found a place, an empty room in the venue where they could talk for a while. They sat, awkward, on a sofa, they way shoved in the corner of the room.

Javier spoke first, stilted in a way that Yuzuru rarely heard from him. It was painful, for them to be so uncomfortable with each other. “At Team Trophy— That wasn’t how I wanted that conversation to go.”

“Me too,” Yuzuru said thickly. Looking down at where his hands were folded on his lap. A beam of midday sunlight cut across the room, split into bands from between half-open blinds, warming the skin it touched. Yuzuru thinned his lips. “I get too angry.”

“I said some pretty stupid things.” Javier hedged, voice was rough with regret.

“Me too.” Yuzuru had been harsh. Too harsh. He had lashed out — too defensive, too set on making everything Javier’s fault and his responsibility.

“I panicked when you started crying, and I know I made it worse. I’m sorry.” Javier rested his elbows on his knees, leaning forwards. Yuzuru looked at him, finally. The light caught the tips of his short brown hair. His eyes were missing their usual spark. He just looked tired, but he still tried to lift his expression.  
“Let’s...try this again?” Javier asked timidly. The way he did when he was incredibly uncomfortable. He had never spoken to Yuzuru that way before. Not really.

Yuzuru nodded, swallowing harshly. Try again, do it over, rewind to the last conversation they had and record over it. There were things that didn’t make sense, pieces of the puzzle that were missing. Yuzuru just wanted to complete it, get all the information and try to work from there.

“When we were together. Did you—” Yuzuru spoke slowly and paused, already unsure of how to find the words for his thoughts, his feelings, and put them together in English. “Was it dating for you?”

Javier blinked, licking his bottom lip, perhaps from nerves or maybe just a habit as he considered his answer. “Yes. But. I thought we both saw it as just a short thing.”

Yuzuru had assumed as much, that Javier had seen what they had as fleeting as a mayfly. A moment in the sun, and then over. “Why you think it was short thing?”

Javier shrugged, not to be dismissive but rather from a genuine struggle to find an answer that would be satisfying. “It seemed easier to deal with. It didn’t seem like a good option for either of us. It felt like the wrong time.”

“If is such a bad idea why do?” Yuzuru shot. He took a breath. He couldn’t snap, he couldn’t fall into the same trap as last time. Anger was such a natural emotion to turn to when things were difficult or painful. But even the smallest sparks of annoyance can quickly become destructive.

Javier accepted that small show of frustration but looked down at his hands. Yuzuru followed his gaze. The tips of his fingers were wrapped in a ribbon of light. Yuzuru followed it’s path, the same golden ray shining across his own hand. It almost felt like a connection. As if Yuzuru could lift his finger and touch the light, twang it like a string and Javier would sense it. But that was just an illusion. Yuzuru bit his lip.

Javier took a breath, his shoulders sagged. “I couldn’t ignore how much we liked each other anymore. I really wanted to know what it would be like.”

Yuzuru searched Javier’s profile, wishing he would face him. “But you didn’t want to keep it?”

Javier’s expression flickered, head turning to meet Yuzuru’s eyes. “I did. Want to keep it. But. My head wasn’t in the right place.”

Yuzuru saw a sadness right to the depths of Javier he had scarcely seen before. Perhaps he had but just not made the connection. His Javier had always been full of humour and smiles and laughter. That was only one side. One piece of the picture. Yuzuru knew that, like everyone, Javier got frustrated or anxious or sad. But he always seemed so mild in comparison to Yuzuru’s intensity. He guessed it was like watching a duck on a pond — on the surface, Javier seemed calm and steady but underneath he was manically paddling to stay afloat.

Yuzuru lowered his eyes to the space between them. Two hand spans of emptiness, the weird grey colour of the sofa. “When did you think we end?”

“The last time you stayed over. When you said you had to focus on the season.”

Yuzuru’s breath caught in his throat. So many times he had thought back and tried to pick out something Javier might have said to indicate it was over, wondering what he missed or misunderstood. All that time, Javier had thought Yuzuru had been the one to bring their relationship to a close. He almost choked. “Why?”

“I thought that was what we were doing anyway. Dating for the summer and stopping when the season started,” Javier said glumly. Yuzuru supposed that thought bothered him, now he knew Yuzuru had been blissfully unaware and had stupidly thought they were together way passed the point Javier had thought they were over.  
“When did you fall in love with me?” Javier asked, soft as a breath.

“While we were together. I wanted to tell you,” Yuzuru answered, wondering why that mattered to Javier.

Javier’s brow furrowed, he sat up but left his hands resting in his lap. “Why didn’t you?”

Yuzuru struggled for the words to explain himself. He remembered how it had felt at the time, like the feeling wanted to burst out of him a hundred ways. In some ways, he had thought he made his feelings clear enough. “It was still growing. Everyday feeling got bigger. But I wanted to know you’d say it back. I kinda wanted you to say first.” Yuzuru lifted his gaze to Javier’s face. “Did you know I loved you?”

Javier smiled tightly. “I wasn’t sure, but I saw it in you. I didn’t know what to do about it at the time.”

“When did you know you loved me?” Yuzuru asked, struggling to keep his voice steady as he asked.

Javier almost looked amused. “When did I know or when did I fall for you?”

Yuzuru frowned. “It’s not the same thing?”

Javier shook his head. His expression was odd, fond but sad, regretful. “I fell in love with you while we were dating. I’d been falling for you for ages. But I only realised when it was too late. I knew since Worlds. When I wiped away your tears. I would give anything in the world to never see you cry again.”

Yuzuru squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away from Javier. Maybe they hadn’t realised their feelings at the same time, but that was far earlier than Yuzuru had expected. He thought perhaps Javier’s love had grown slower, much slower, or had been held off by denial. Maybe he wasn’t entirely wrong, but that meant Javier had been walking around for a year and a half knowing that he loved Yuzuru and saying, doing, nothing about it.  
Yuzuru opened his eyes and turned back to Javier. “Why did you stay with Miki for so long if you love me the whole time?”

Javier looked pained. “I wasn’t sure you felt the same. And for a while, I was happy with her. I thought she was what I wanted.”

Yuzuru frowned. It was difficult, to stop himself from flaring up. His fingernails dug into the palm of his hand for just a split second. Not painful, but enough to keep him grounded. He tried to keep his breaths even and his tone neutral.“Now you think you want me?”

“Yes.”

Yuzuru swallowed. His throat felt dry and tight. “How do I know you won’t change mind again?”

Javier shifted, shrinking the space between them by half, his knee pressing into the edge of the ugly grey sofa, so his body was twisted towards Yuzuru.  
Yuzuru looked up at him, hoping his expression signalled a warning. He jerked his head for good measure. Now was not the time for Javier to start invading his space and touching him the way he was so naturally inclined. Javier seemed to get the message, shoulders stiffening as if holding himself back.  
  
Javier’s voice was soft, fond and longing, tinged with remorse.“You didn’t always hide how you felt. Sometimes I could see that you were hurting, but I didn’t know exactly why. I don’t want you to hurt anymore. I don’t want to be the reason you hurt anymore. I want to make you happy and be happy with you.”

Yuzuru looked down at the floor. His voice felt rough. “We don’t need to date for that.”

“Maybe not,” Javier agreed. “But I want to love you. Properly. The way I should have before.”

Yuzuru pressed his lips together into a thin line. He felt numb at those words. It was too much. “I need to think about it.”

“Because of Shoma?” Javier’s veneer cracked; the jealousy that had set Yuzuru off last time edged back into his tone.

“Yes. Because of Shoma.” Yuzuru paused to collect himself, to bring himself back down before he got too defensive. He had let Javier leave Tokyo with the wrong impression about what was going in with Shoma. He had to fix that. “It’s not what you think. We’re not fooling around.”

“But you’re not dating,” Javier said flatly, not understanding but trying not to seem dismissive. Yuzuru could see that the topic of Shoma opened a wound for Javier, he saw how pain seemed to throb beneath the surface of his skin in the tightness and his eyes. Javier sniffed. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner that you were seeing him?”

“I didn’t know what to tell,” Yuzuru muttered. Now it was time for Yuzuru to feel contrite.

“You say things changed at Four Continents.” Javier’s eyes flickered over Yuzuru’s face, questioning. “What happened there?”

Yuzuru winced, not sure how to put it to words. “He confessed to me. And I accept his feeling.”

Javier looked somewhat exasperated. “I don’t know what you mean by that.”

“How can you date two Japanese people and still not understand our culture?” Yuzuru snarked. Javier looked a little sheepish. For a split second, the felt normal again. But the second elapsed and the bubble burst and Yuzuru had to explain. “He told me he likes me. And I told him I like him too.”

“And?”

Yuzuru shrugged. “And. That’s it… That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

“So what are you doing with him?” Javier asked, his arms closing a little tighter in front of him.

Yuzuru chewed his lip. “We go slow and see what happen. I need time, and he don’t want rush.” He turned his eyes up to the ceiling. Yuzuru had the English to get by, enough to express himself, but it was limiting. His vocabulary wasn’t enough. In Japanese, he could paint a picture with a thousand colours. English felt more like drawing in crayon with his non-dominant hand. “We are friends who like each other and thinking where we go now.”

“And I’m…?”

Yuzuru pursed his lips, meeting Javier’s eyes, almost feeling humoured. “A problem.”

Some realisation fluttered across Javier’s eyes. The deep hazelnut brown seemed to dim as the thought settled there. Javier’s mouth twisted. “You’re going to keep seeing him.”

Yuzuru felt a lump rise in his throat. “I’m not telling him no just because you ask me.” Javier winced. Yuzuru couldn’t look at him. Javier’s hands withdrew to rake through his hair, leaving Yuzuru’s alone in the sunlight. Yuzuru could see tiny motes of dust floating in the air, shimming as they were caught in the beam of light. More empty space. Yuzuru’s throat drew tighter. “He’s giving me all off-season to think.”

“And I should wait for you to figure out who you want?” Javier asked, voice thinner than before. Less controlled.

Yuzuru dared to look back at him. What he saw made him ache. “You expect me to wait for you while you date Miki,” he said softly. “You can’t even wait for me to think?”

Javier’s eyes looked damp, but not enough to spill over. He suppressed the quiver in his lip, took a deep breath. “If you weren’t with Shoma—”

“I would still need time,” Yuzuru told him. It was the truth. There was no situation where that would not be the case without their actions early in the relationship being fundamentally different. Yuzuru’s expression was flat. “You hurt me a lot.”

Yuzuru felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Time was up. They had to leave. They couldn’t stay in this room until everything was better because they couldn’t stay in this room forever. He sighed. “I don’t want to be fighting with you.”

Javier’s fingers twitched. Yuzuru felt a dull pang of yearning in his chest. He wanted to reach out and cover Javier’s hand with his own, let him know in some small way that he was still there with him, for him. But it seemed inappropriate. Instead he drew his hands closer to his body.  
Javier mustered up a wan smile. “I don’t want to fight with you either. But we can’t pretend nothing’s wrong.”

“I know.” Yuzuru huffed miserably, looking at Javier’s downcast eyes, the way his lashes fanned out, casting shadows against his cheek. “I miss my friend Javi.”

Javier’s lips quirked. “I miss my friend Yuzu.”

“Can we try being friend for a while?” Yuzuru pleaded.

Javier puffed out a short breathy laugh. Yuzuru’s heart trembled.  
“We can try.”

***

The opening day of a show was as exciting and important as the very last. Of course, every day for a run of ice shows was fun, because it was always a thrill to perform. Yuzuru loved entertaining the crowd, getting them to respond to him. It had been a while since Yuzuru had honestly simply enjoyed skating, but lately it was the strongest it had ever been. The ice was his favourite place to be whether he was training or warming up or performing. Right now it flooded him. The purest happiness. He was doing what he loved. He was lucky.

Maybe it was because he hadn’t been able to do any shows last year. Maybe it was because he had ended last season thinking his career was going to end. This year he managed to finish uninjured for the first time in years, and stronger than when he started. There was no better feeling in the world than that.

“Yuzu!” Nobu squealed joyfully as they made their way backstage after the opening. “Awesome! You really learned the dance!”

Yuzuru nodded, laughing. He had, as promised, spent hours in the hotel finding videos of the choreography to copy it. Shoma had mostly laughed at him and played on his phone but had briefly got off his bed to join in. That had been something of a distraction, as they ended up on the floor in a heap, Shoma on his back, laughing at how he had slipped. Yuzuru had giggled against Shoma’s neck, waiting for the perfect moment to wiggle his fingers underneath Shoma’s ribs to tickle him.

Yuzuru grabbed his bag and shrugged off the gold jacket the organisers gave him. “I was cool, right?”

Shoma smirked, unzipping the protective bag that housed his costume. Black, transparent in places, very sparkly but a little plain. Probably not the final version. “No.”  
Yuzuru pouted.

Shoma didn’t have a whole lot of time to change and prepare for his short program performance, not enough time for modesty. He stripped his shirt over his head unceremoniously. Yuzuru turned his face away, but still he caught glimpses of Shoma’s skin in the corner of his eye. His arms, his shoulders, his waist.  
Yuzuru hastily pulled off his own shirt, hanging it immediately. He looked up at caught Javier doing the same. It was a reflex for his eyes to sweep up Javier’s bare torso. He knew Javier did the same. He always did.  
Their eyes met, briefly. Javier’s gaze drifted over Yuzuru’s shoulder, and he turned away. Yuzuru looked at his naked back, the shift of muscle as he picked up his shirt.

Awkward, Yuzuru turned back. He fished a plain, black, loose t-shirt out of his bag to throw on as quickly as possible. He could get into his costume later, and warm up in this. There wouldn’t be time to clean the costume until the week was over, or possibly until the had completed every stop. It’d be doomed to stink regardless, but it was better to save it from some sweat.

Yuzuru put away his stuff, setting his costume out so he could change into it quickly later. He fumbled with his bag before giving up on closing it and grabbed his earphones.

“Are you gonna watch anyone?” Shoma asked, zipping up his costume.

Yuzuru nodded, flattening where some of Shoma’s hair had fluffed up in the struggle. “I’ll watch you. And anyone else I can.”

“You’re gonna watch me?” Shoma tilted his head with a smile.

“Of course I am,” Yuzuru laughed.

And he did. He would every time.

Yuzuru’s skate wasn’t perfect, but okay. It was more important to get a feel for the program than doing everything perfectly. So long as he could do the quad combination as the last jump pass, it was fine. Popping the loop was more a problem with the shortness of the show ice than Yuzuru’s inability to do it. He felt like that was an error he could accept.

“Good job,” Plushenko smiled, patting his back as they left the ice the final time. Yuzuru beamed.

It never seemed to matter how many times Yuzuru shared the ice with Plushenko and Johnny; it always made him feel dizzy with joy to be around the two skaters who had influenced him the most as a child. It was strange too, because he had somehow risen to a position where his most revered idols respected and admired him in return. It added to the buzz of performing and stuck with him until they were back in the hotel.  
Shoma was already bundled up in bed; covers pulled up over his face, so he was just a tuft of hair and eyes peeking over. Yuzuru detoured on his way to his own bed and flopped on top of where Shoma lay, laughing at the little whine of displeasure. Yuzuru wiggled up to press a soft, smiling kiss to Shoma’s forehead and whispered in his ear.  
“Goodnight.”

***

After the second night’s show, Yuzuru had a craving for dessert. Shoma, being a terrible enabler, went with him to the nearest convenience store. That was how the ended up on Yuzuru’s bed with a bag full of pudding cups, candy and chocolate.

“We...are not going to eat this all now,” Shoma said, looking up at Yuzuru as if to check as he unwrapped a lollipop. Yuzuru leaned back against the headboard, picking a pudding cup from the bag. Shoma rolled onto his stomach and gave the lollipop a tentative lick to check the flavour wasn’t gross.

“Of course not, this stash should last us at least up to Niigata,” Yuzuru grinned, tearing the top off his pudding and retrieving the spoon.

Shoma grinned around the candy, the stick poking between his lips. Yuzuru watched as Shoma pulled the lollipop out of his mouth, the way his lips dragged over it. He wondered if Shoma was doing it on purpose, or if he didn’t know he was being a little...provocative. Shoma had his phone in one hand, thumb tapping away at whatever game he was playing, and his treat in the other. Yuzuru jabbed at his pudding as Shoma idly popped the candy into his mouth to lick and remove again, slowly.

It was one of those little moments where Yuzuru really had to question just how right his image of Shoma really was. Perhaps Yuzuru tended to think of him as too innocent, or he used to. Shoma kept doing little things that broke that down. It didn’t matter how sweetly he smiled or how politely he bowed to his elders, how he batted his eyes when he was thinking or giggled or blushed. He was still a guy like any other guy. He was a lot of things. He was capable of a lot of things.

Yuzuru happily dug into his pudding cup, humming in pleasure at the glorious crappy sweetness. Shoma licked at his lollipop and looked up at Yuzuru through his lashed with an impish kind of smile.  
Totally on purpose, Yuzuru concluded, biting his lip. Shoma one-hundred-percent knew what he was doing. Just like he had when he made that flirty comment in front of Kanako--

“Oh. I just remembered,” Yuzuru said, digging his spoon back into his pudding. “You told Kana you had a crush on me?”

Shoma blanched. “Oh god, what did she tell you?”

“Nothing bad. Just that you told Keiji and Mao too?”

“It sounds like I was telling everyone,” Shoma grumbled, putting down his phone. “I wasn’t. Just. You know. A few people.”

Yuzuru grinned, hoping Shoma didn’t think he was annoyed at all with him. But he was curious. He thought Shoma was a more private person, the type to not share much. He thought that Shoma was more cautious. Yuzuru finished off his pudding and put the empty plastic on the bedside table before wiggling down, so he was more on level with Shoma. Yuzuru lay on his side, Shoma turned his head to face him but stayed lay on his belly, propped up on his elbows.

“You’re not worried that. I dunno. You’ll say something to the wrong person?” Yuzuru asked lightly. His eyes were drawn to the lines of Shoma’s shoulders, the curve of his back. He forced himself to keep his eyes on Shoma’s face.

Shoma shrugged, pushing his lollipop to the side of his cheek with his tongue so he could answer around it. “I only really talk about stuff with friends.”

Yuzuru’s lips quirked, amused at Shoma’s bulging cheek. “Even friends gossip.”

“I don’t think I'm interesting enough to gossip about,” Shoma said flatly, pulling out his lollipop. His expression shifted, eyes turning a little more puppy-ish, bashful. “Do you mind? They mostly just noticed and I didn’t see the point in denying it. I wasn’t yelling it from the rooftops.”

“It’s cute.” Yuzuru smiled, propping himself up on one arm. “I told Kana we’re seeing each other, is that okay?”

Shoma’s eyes widened for a small moment. He blinked rapidly, taking a few seconds to process. “Sure, it’s fine. But she’s probably going to tease me forever.”  
Yuzuru laughed. Shoma tapped his lollipop against his lip in thought before wrapping his lips around it for a brief, contemplative suck. He turned back to Yuzuru, head tilting to prelude a question. “It’s...it’s okay to tell people that?”

Yuzuru grimaced in thought. He hated the feeling he sometimes got — that he was Javier’s secret. When he was nineteen the idea of sneaking around was fun, it being just between the two of them was fine. Figuring out that it was because Javier was ashamed, though…  
Yuzuru didn’t want to put that on Shoma, but he also wasn’t sure he liked the idea of everyone in his life knowing. Some people, sure. But Yuzuru still coveted some privacy.  
“I don’t really tell people. That I’m gay. Only a few people know,” Yuzuru said delicately. “But...I guess anyone who’s okay with you would be okay with me too.”

Shoma’s brow furrowed in a sweet, concerned kind of way. “You don’t tell people because you’re scared they’ll react badly?”

“I guess.” Yuzuru shrugged, wanting to keep the mood more light and casual than it was maybe heading. “I’d be bummed out if Ryuju or someone stopped talking to me because they were weirded out. ”

“Wouldn’t happen,” Shoma said confidently, popping his lollipop back in his mouth. It was at the stage now where the candy could be pulled off the stick. Yuzuru saw Shoma’s cheeks hollow out in effort to do just that. Shoma kicked his legs out behind him and tucked the stick into his back pocket to deal with later.  
Shoma bobbed his head, like he was thinking about what he was about to say and preemptively agreeing with himself. “But I...get it. I have friends I don’t tell. If I can’t kind of predict how they’ll react, I don’t tell them.”

Yuzuru hummed. “How can you be so sure?”

Embarrassment crossed over Shoma’s face. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I, um, I have a habit of rehearsing conversations.”

Yuzuru giggled, leaning forwards slightly without thinking. “Do you rehearse things you’ll say to me?”

“All the time,” Shoma admitted, shy smile shifting to a playful smirk. “You don’t stick to the script much though.”

Yuzuru laughed. “Sorry.”

“I kinda like it,” Shoma shrugged, stretching his legs out flat on the bed. Yuzuru’s eyes were drawn back down rounded shoulders, the dip of his waist. Shoma’s eyes glimmered. Like he knew. “You usually give me nice surprises.”

Yuzuru wanted to reach out and touch. Feel the curl of Shoma’s hair, the softness of his cheek. He picked at the bedcover instead. “I wish you wouldn’t. Rehearse so much. I’d like to see more of you not...what you think I want you to be.”

“I might disappoint you.”

Yuzuru’s eyes lifted, and he smiled. “Impossible.”  
It seemed the more Yuzuru learned about Shoma, the more he appreciated him, the more he wanted to discover. It was interesting, to hear Shoma’s way of dealing with people. Not completely nïave, but with a certain amount of faith in the people around him. Cautious but not distrustful, more quietly calculating if anything at all. It would be easier for Shoma to do as Yuzuru had for so long, to shut parts of himself off to most people for the sake of privacy. When Kanako or others had noticed his feelings for Yuzuru, Shoma could have denied it and buried it. But he didn’t. He chose to live his life as his genuine self. He was shy and reserved and private, but he didn’t let that become a wall to isolate him from others.

“Do your parents know?” Yuzuru asked, searching Shoma’s face for signs that the topic made him uncomfortable.

Shoma crunched whatever last remains of candy were in his mouth and nodded. “Yeah. My family know.” He shifted so his weight and more to one side, body more open towards Yuzuru. Their eyes met. Shoma licked his lip. Yuzuru could see where his tongue was dyed red from his candy.  
“I won’t tell anyone...about this. Without you saying it’s okay.”

“I trust you,” Yuzuru said, honestly, without a shade of doubt.

“I guess I should be more careful now anyway,” Shoma said with the hint of a pout playing on his lips. “Now that I’m getting sponsors and stuff.”

“It’s good you tell your friends though,” Yuzuru mused. It was something he’d been considering ever since he spoke to Kanako. There was something very freeing about talking to her. It made him curious about being open with other people.

Shoma hummed, nodding thoughtfully. “Yeah. Keiji helped a lot in getting me to confess to you.”

Yuzuru perked up. “Really?”

“Yeah. He kept telling me even if you rejected me, getting it out was better than bottling it up,” Shoma’s eyes sparkled with the unspoken joke. Keiji had been crushing on Zijun for years and still hadn’t told her, even if they had become friendly over time. It was always easier to give advice than follow it. Shoma wrinkled his nose. “At least I’d know.”

“Was that one of the things you rehearsed?” Yuzuru teased.

Shoma laughed, cheeks turning pink. “Only about a hundred times.”

Yuzuru chuckled, settling to get a little more comfortable on the bed. Shoma tapped at his phone to check the time.  
Yuzuru finally gave in and ran a finger down the length of Shoma’s spine, stopping right at the base. He wanted to ask if it was uncomfortable, to lie like that for so long. He gave Shoma’s back a light rub at the point where he thought it might ache.

Shoma shuddered and held up his phone to Yuzuru’s face. “Look at the time.”  
Yuzuru squinted a little at the screen. 11:11. Shoma grinned at him. “We should make a wish. Close your eyes.”

Yuzuru chuckled but did as he was told. He had so many wishes. Of course the first, the biggest, was to win a second Olympic gold. He’d spend every little hope, every shooting star, on that until February came and went.  
Yuzuru opened his eyes, looking at Shoma. His eyes were still closed, lips slightly parted. The soft orange light of the hotel lamps caught the warmth of his brown hair, the golden tines to his skin. When he opened his eyes, Yuzuru felt like he’d been caught.

“What did you wish for?”

Shoma flipped onto his back, looking up at Yuzuru cheekily. “Can’t say or it won’t come true.”

Yuzuru snickered, shifting his weight onto his forearm so he could lean down and kiss Shoma’s lips. He didn’t need a reason to do it other than he wanted to. And he did, so much. Shoma's pink lips and teasing eyes seemed to ask for it. Yuzuru dropped a series of pecks against Shoma’s lips, damp and a little sticky from his candy. Shoma’s response was immediate, urging each little kiss to be a little longer, firmer, more.

Yuzuru moved a little closer, brought a hand to support Shoma’s straining neck, let his lips linger on Shoma’s mouth. It was different, kissing lay down like this. Unchartered territory for them. Yuzuru felt the way Shoma moved to prop himself up on one arm so he could answer the kiss better, more pressure. Shoma’s thumb stroked at Yuzuru’s jawline, lips parting for him. Yuzuru melted at Shoma's fingers lightly teasing the sensitive skin where his jaw squared off, a spot beneath his ear, under his chin.  
They adjusted and kissed deeper. Yuzuru’s tongue slipped into Shoma’s mouth, hand running down his neck and coming to rest on Shoma’s belly. He felt the firmness there, the way the muscles flexed to hold Shoma’s body up. Yuzuru’s fingers curled against the soft fabric of Shoma’s t-shirt, imagining slipping under and feeling the heat of his skin.

Shoma buried his fingers into Yuzuru’s hair, so when he laid back, Yuzuru followed him.

Yuzuru rubbed their noses together as they broke for air. Warm breaths against each other’s mouth. The lightest drag of lips, tempting to kiss more. Harder. Longer. He felt Shoma’s hand snake around his waist, subtly tugging at his body to urge Yuzuru closer. Over him. Above him.  
He wanted to let himself go, to cover Shoma’s body with his own and kiss him deeply. To slide his hand up under Shoma’s clothes and feel Shoma’s do the same.  
But it was too fast. Too much. The wrong time. They agreed not to rush.

Yuzuru gentled his mouth. Dialling back the kiss that went a bit further, was a bit deeper – hotter – than he intended. Sweet. Yuzuru smiled against Shoma's mouth.

When he drew back, Shoma eyes opened. Slowly. As if coming out of a dream.  
“That wasn’t what I wished for,” Shoma joked coyly. “But I’ll take it.”

***

Yuzuru clapped his hands as Shoma glided out to take his mark on the ice. It was the last day in Makuhari. They would have a week before the next set of shows began, for Yuzuru that would be a break to spend time with his family, do a little training alone. Shoma would do a show in America, then come back for Kobe.  
Javier would rest in Okinawa. With Miki. Yuzuru wasn't sure how he felt about that.

Yuzuru watched like he promised he would. The violin of Vivaldi's Winter ringing through the arena. Shoma moved.  
Yuzuru enjoyed watching Shoma. It was odd, how the feeling of watching Shoma changed over the years as he rose up the ranks and established himself as one of Yuzuru's rivals. That status tinted Yuzuru's enjoyment of Shoma's skating. He recognised his strategies, thought about the trajectory of where he was going from here, how he was growing, how Yuzuru had to develop in retaliation. Shoma was shaping up to be a strong all round skater. A solid foundation in the performance components, though still room to grow. There was always room to grow.

Yuzuru's eyes followed him around the ice, light hitting the stones on his costume to shimmer like a morning frost. Shoma turned, arms extending beautifully. That had always been one of his strengths: great upper body movement, graceful and purposeful arm movements, controlled and carried beautifully. Yuzuru always looked at competitors strengths to learn from them, particularly in the things he lacked. Shoma's carriage was exemplary.  
The jumps were Shoma's key, though. The quad flip his little weapon, the loop he had added alongside it, the toe-loop a steady staple. Yuzuru knew he was training the salchow and considering the lutz. That was Shoma's strategy for next season - to max out his base value as much as he could. He would get the performance component scores from the skill he had and the reputation he built through the previous year. It was a solid plan. It had risks, namely that Shoma's weakest link was his jumps. Execution would be his weak point. Shoma knew that, accepted it, but thought it was more beneficial just to get the elements landed fully rotated.  
Which was fair enough. It could be enough to win. It was likely to be enough to make podium.

Yuzuru wanted that for him. But he also wanted gold for himself.

Yuzuru left to warm up, to change into his program outfit, and returned to watch Javier. Similar to Yuzuru, Javier was looking back, returning to a familiar theme, but he had fit it to a new program.

It was quintessential Javier. Character driven, a little humour. His strategy was the opposite to Shoma's. Rather than adding new quads and relying on base value, Javier would stick with what he had and rely on his execution to outscore anyone else. Another solid plan, but with risks of its own since it put pressure on Javier to more or less skate clean. Though, Javier had proven so many times that he could rise to the occasion when called. That's how he won two World Championships.

Yuzuru was somewhere between the two of them. He was greedy. He would have the performance components, and the additional base value, and aim for the best execution too. But that was always Yuzuru. He chased not just his ideal, but whatever lay beyond it too.

Turning to safe options was normal for Olympic seasons. Yuzuru was reusing two old programs - he wouldn't be the only one. Shoma would reuse a previous program for his free skate, Javier was returning to characters he had skated before... Olympics always brought a lot of pressure, as it was a competition you had to wait four years to redo if you could qualify for another chance. It also had a way of whipping up extra media attention, which piled on more pressure. For most, it just wasn;t the time for playing around with new styles and music. Success was frequently found in the familiar.

Yuzuru smiled as he watched Javier skate. He hadn't had an outfit for this program, so had bought something that vaguely for the theme, but it wasn't meant for skating. It was too baggy, not the right fit, awkward to move it. But still, Javier skated true to what he was - one of the best in the world.  
Yuzuru had a similar problem, in that he hadn't arranged for a new costume to be made. His old one fit, to a degree, but his body had changed since the last time he wore it. It was tight across the chest, in the trousers. A little more difficult to move it than it should be. When Yuzuru lifted his arms above his head and brought them down on the curve of a spread eagle, he was a little worried the fabric might rip.

There was a twinge of sadness in watching Javier. He had been candid about it likely being his last Olympics. Yuzuru knew it would be. The next time the competition came around, Javier would be thirty. Figure skating as a sport was hard on the body, so their careers tended to be short. It was unlikely that Javier's body could handle the strain of competitive training for much longer.

Yuzuru knew Javier might retire at the end of the season and what that would mean. Everything would change.  
Yuzuru was unsure of Javier's intentions after retirement, but he doubted sticking around in Toronto was part of them. The thought made Yuzuru ache.

He was scared of losing Javier. It hit him hard and forced the air from his lungs. It was inevitable that Yuzuru would lose him as a training mate, he had already lost Javier as a lover once. He was terrified of losing him altogether. The current rockiness between them made him feel sick. The idea of standing in the same place next year, watching Javier skate in an ice show and knowing that when the show ended Javier would not be going to Toronto...  
Yuzuru didn't want it. But he had to accept it.

Their relationship felt like sand running through his fingers. He wanted to know that they will have something, anything when time ran out, and everything would change. He can't help but wonder if that's why Javier wants to try again now - to establish that kind of relationship before other parts of who they are to each other are dismantled. So they would have something solid, something strong and real when they are no longer rink mates, no longer competitors, no longer rivals.

Yuzuru is struck by just how deep his fear went. The sickening dread that in the future he won't have Javier at all. Another friend that went away. They still had at least one whole season together, but the idea of training with Javier not there made Yuzuru feel cold. No more clapping for each other when a session went well, no more pulling each other up when one of them fell. No more ganging up to tease Brian or goading Junhwan into doing something naughty. No more watching Javier cooling down with smooth stroking exercises or watching him jump with stunning technique and flow that made Yuzuru itch to do better. No more competing together. No more standing on the podium beside each other. No more sharing victories and commiserating failures together.

Javier had made mistakes, and Yuzuru had made some wrong choices. There had been times when things were hard and strained and times where Yuzuru's feelings were a mess. There were flaws, deep cracks in their relationship. But at their core, they were the same. They understood each other, cared for each other, inspired each other, motivated each other. They were companions. They ran together, chased their dreams together and helped each other reach them. They had grown together, because of each other. Yuzuru wouldn't be where he was today without Javier.

Yuzuru wasn't ready for it to end. He didn't want them to become nothing to each other. Just an ex. Just someone from the past. Acquaintances, only to see each other once or twice a year.

Yuzuru kept that feeling for his own performance. That was the beauty of Ballade, why it was such a perfect program for him. It was flexible. He could change the nuance of the performance to suit him every time. This time he skated with longing and fear. He pictured the sands of time slipping away from him and reached out to grasp at it. He saw the friendship that was crumbling at his fingertips and clutched it close to his heart to protect it. He pictured Javier's smile, the way they had posed for a photograph in the hallway after the opening number, the way they tentatively circled each other through the week. He wanted to erase that awkwardness. Since they talked last... They remained distanced. Yuzuru turned his body in his spin, reaching out towards the light. He imagined sitting in the room, the beam of golden light the once connected them now like a wall that separated them. In his mind's eyes, Yuzuru saw the tiny pieces of dust shining in the light, he wanted to become that dust so he could cross that barrier. He wanted to reach out and touch Javier's hand. Reconnect. Rebuild.

  
They couldn't go back. They had to move forward. Somehow. Yuzuru had spent too long clinging onto what they used to be. He had to let it go. They would never be like that again. It was an unreachable destination. They had changed too much, hurt too much. They would never be the friends that they used to be. They would never be the lovers that they used to be. And Yuzuru's stubborn clinging to their past had ruined them.   
Yuzuru hoped they could fix things, be stronger than before. Be better to each other. He feared they would fall apart.

Yuzuru skated his first clean short program of the year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO SORRY this took so long. I just got lazy.  
> I swear I will keep my ass moving on the next chapter! It's worth nothing tho that these two chapters like.changed.a lot. from earlier plans. I hope they changed for the better.........
> 
> hohoho I maybe got a little bit too much into [Spring Day](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xEeFrLSkMm8) but the imagery in the bridge and chorus is too goddamn pretty


	17. Interim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter includes a brief and rather casual mention of possible past sexual coercion. Nothing graphic; just wanted to give a heads up.
> 
> Thanks to the people who looked over my notes to poke me in the ass to actually write. I hope you enjoy the finished product. Big thanks to my beta who was my primary enabler and cheerleader.

**Interim**  
  


It was quiet on the ice. That was one of the nice things about being home - back in Sendai. People were accommodating and willing to give him some space if he needed it.

Yuzuru didn’t mind sharing the ice while he practised, didn’t object to training amongst other skaters; he was used to it, it was usual. That was how he had always trained. But it could be a bit uncomfortable when he was in Japan and had to use an open session to practice. Not just because of the children around him on the ice but the onlookers at the side that often had their phones poised to follow him.

To a certain degree, Yuzuru never got used to that - the attention he attracted from people with even a casual interest in the sport. It could be a struggle, to block out the hum of chatter whenever he did anything, the click of cameras and the weight of so many eyes and lenses turned onto him. It brewed an odd dichotomy of feelings.  
He had always liked being watched. He loved performing in front of a crowd. He was grateful for the support he got in abundance from so many people. Loved hearing the cheers rise for him and seeing the downpour of bears and gifts and flowers that flooded the ice after he skated - physical tokens of admiration that were far too many for him to keep and usually donated but appreciated nonetheless.  
But it also made him nervous, uneasy. The swell of expectations often threatened to crush him. It could be draining whether he was playing up to the cameras around him or struggling to pretend they didn’t exist. He had been under the scrutiny of media and audiences since he entered juniors, but he never got used to it. The sheer number of fans Yuzuru had could be overwhelming, the laser-focus of media could be annoying. It could be hard to block it out. Toronto was a bubble where these things rarely reached him without his invitation, but in Japan, it enveloped him.

Though it could be worse. Yuzuru was grateful that, for the most part, his privacy was respected. Away from competitions and ice shows, he wasn’t harassed by the media or by his fans. When he was approached, it was politely and calmly. There were places he could go where even if he was spotted by admirers, they kept their distance. Sendai was like Toronto in a way - a little bubble of safety. More people recognised him here than in Canada, but it was as if the city had made a unanimous, silent pledge to protect him. As if they chose let him wander freely without hassle. Agreed to not secretly record or photograph him on the street - to conserve the feeling of Sendai being his home where all he would only ever be greeted by love and support and respect - from his family and his city.

The rink in Sendai was like an old friend. The staff had scheduled him some private practice time after peak hours and keep the rink closed off so he could use the ice he had skated for the very first time on to continue to make steps forward. Maybe the rink wasn’t exactly same as it had been when he was a child; having been closed down and re-opened, damaged, repaired and renovated over the years, but it still held Yuzuru’s history. This was where he had learned the basics, where he attempted and landed his first jumps. This was where he would roll up balls of paper and make bats from old newspapers to play baseball with other boys when he was bored of the classes that were meant to build his skating skills. This was where he had fallen thousands of times, cried from the frustration and sometimes the pain but always got up, brushed himself off, and tried again. Sendai was where he built his foundations. Without everything he experienced here, he wouldn’t be the same person. He would have fallen apart a long time ago.

Even the bad experiences had made him stronger.

“Do you think you’d coach there?” Javier had asked Yuzuru once when Yuzuru had got an update on how much money he had managed to raise for the rink through biography sales. Yuzuru had been pleased with his contribution to keeping the rink open and had gleefully shared the news as they laced up their boots.  
“After you retire from competing, I mean.”

Yuzuru had shrugged. Maybe. He wasn’t sure if he would go into coaching when his competitive career ended. He wanted to skate professionally, but even that couldn’t last forever, and the likes of Stephane was proof you could do both. He had a vague idea of things he could do once he retired, but they were fuzzy, undefined. He hadn’t given his life after competitions much, extended, thought.

That was starting to bite him in the ass giving his past tendency to share his grand plans with anyone who asked. Now he was being asked with some regularity about what he would do after Pyeongchang, and the question always gave him a brief bolt of panic. He answered vaguely, and honestly as he really had no plans at all for after the games.

That was the problem with having big dreams and thinking you have your path all figured out from a young age - the feeling when you stray from that path. Yuzuru was doomed to eventually reach the point where his plans ended, and he was left with no idea what to do. Yuzuru had always operated with the goal to make it to two Olympics and try to win gold at both. He built himself as a junior and went senior at fifteen with that goal in mind. He pushed himself and switched coaches and moved to Toronto with that goal in mind. He went to Sochi and carried on afterwards with his sights firmly set on a second Olympics. But when he was fifteen, twenty-three seemed so old. Old enough to retire after the games to be a professional skater anyway. Now he was about to turn twenty-three he realised it wasn’t old at all, and he was far from feeling done. He had reached an odd point where as a child he thought he’d be ready to retire and move on with his life, but he wasn’t. He still had no further plans, the horizon of his competitive career still seemed so far away and what lay beyond it remained a mystery to him.

He wasn’t where he thought he would be when he was a child making his plans. In some ways, he exceeded his dreams. In others, he had not. He could almost imagine his younger self - before his growth spurt, with his mushroom haircut and his rabbity teeth - asking why, if he could score over 300 points, he had only won two World Championships. It made Yuzuru laugh when he considered it. His younger-self was a little brat.

Maybe Yuzuru would return to Sendai after retirement. Teach kids how to skate. Maybe build his own program over time the way Brian had in Canada. It would make sense, to go back to a place that meant so much to him, that was so important and so steeped in memories. But Yuzuru was still set on moving forwards for now. Whatever that meant.

Yuzuru picked up speed. The only sound was his breath and the hiss of his blades cutting into the ice below. A calming sound that filled the silence. Now was not the time to be pondering things that were so flimsy and unstable. Now wasn’t the time to linger on unsteady ground. He wanted to root himself, feel secure and confident and sure. Thoughts of his future were formless and fleeting, like puffs of smoke. There was no point trying to grasp at them. He didn’t want to waste time on too many things that just left him confused and ungrounded. He needed to feel whole, complete, present in the moment.

That’s how he felt when he heard the opening notes of either of his programs. That’s how he felt when he listened to the soft glide of his blades.

If he was lucky, if he was in the right mindset, if it was quiet enough he could empty his mind for a few minutes. After years of chasing big dreams and being swallowed up by them what he needed was to make everything shrink down. Block out everything else. Bring himself back down to a single point. So often it felt like he was leaking out of his skin, his mind wandering all over the place, floating off somewhere above the clouds, out in space, chasing the stars. He had gotten better at bringing himself back down to his body, focusing on the tensing of muscles and the way that he moved, but he still struggled to not get distracted and lose himself. He would need to work on that. Find a way to control his emotionality without losing it completely, focus without over-thinking.

Yuzuru took a sharp breath as his free leg reached back, ready to strike the ice. He listened to the sweeping sound the deepening outside edge made as it cut into a curve, the steady thunk of his toe-pick launching him into the air. He held his breath in effort, arms tight to his body, ankles tucked together. There was a slight awkwardness to rotating in the opposite direction of the lobe he had been following, tightness as his core worked to keep his axis at the right angle in the air. One, two, three, four rotation in less than a second. Yuzuru’s right foot hit the ice, free leg unfurling behind him, knee bending deep to take the impact, thighs and glutes, calves, ankles, lower back, stomach clenching hard to control the landing. The crisp ‘ _pa_ ’ of the landing was satisfying. Not perfect, but rotated and landed on one foot. An improvement. Good. Yuzuru let out the breath he had been holding and resumed his light strokes around the ice.

He supposed that jump in itself was a decision for what he would do after the games. Going back to old programs was too, in a way. This season might draw the past four years to a close, tie off this cycle with his two best programs and the results of his technical and artistic development. But when competing was so fun, and Yuzuru was so far from hitting the ceiling of his capabilities, why would he stop? He had new elements to play with, new styles and types of music he wanted to try. Maybe one year would be enough to sate him, maybe two. Maybe he’d stay for a third Olympics. He wouldn’t make any bold proclamations about staying for another four years, he didn’t want to make any promises he maybe couldn’t keep, but it was perhaps time to dismantle the idea that he was going to retire this time next year. He wasn’t sure about his future, but that was a good reason to not make any major decisions. Yuzuru thought that, really, he shouldn’t choose to give up his competitive life until he had a clear view of what he would do afterwards.

In the meantime, he would do what he needed to. Push himself more. Try new things. Concentrate on what was directly ahead of him. See how it goes. Just enjoy it.  
  


***  
  


One of the first things Yuzuru did after arriving in Kobe was head to the nearest ice rink. Brian had requested that he get there around midday the day before they were due to learn the new group number so he could have something close to a typical session with him. It would be good to have Brian around for the shows in Kobe, even if he was only there to help with some choreography. It gave Yuzuru an extra chance to get his ideas of what he wanted to do over the summer out there before he went back to Toronto.

Yuzuru supposed it was stupid to not anticipate that Brian would have told Javier to do the same and report to the local rink to see how his short program was coming along. But Yuzuru was stupid. He hadn’t prepared to see Javier stood talking with Brian. He hadn’t prepared to see how Javier stiffened as soon as he saw Yuzuru, how he looked away and avoided meeting Yuzuru’s eyes. The uncomfortable shifting feeling at the pit of Yuzuru’s stomach when he was around Javier was new to Yuzuru but became familiar over the previous week. He didn’t like it, but he wasn’t sure what to do but wait for it to disperse.

There was some comfort in the familiarity of leaning down to touch the ice before stepping on and running warming up his leg muscles through his stroking routine. He watched from the corner of his eye as Javier did the same. Yuzuru considered what Brian would see from where he was watching. Did they look normal but tired, focused on the opportunity to skate and get feedback from their coach? Or did he see the awkward tension between them and the frostiness in their silence? Was the cursory nod between them when Yuzuru stepped on the ice too stiff, the hello too quiet and polite?

Yuzuru took a deep breath and slipped into his step sequence.

Maybe it wasn’t as pronounced as Yuzuru feared. For him, it seemed to be thick in the air - like the feeling before a storm. Static. The latent friction made Yuzuru feel uneasy and raised the hair on his arms. But it was possible that Brian existed somewhere outside of that. Perhaps it couldn’t be seen from the outside. Maybe the distance held between them when they strayed to the side for one reason or another was natural, maybe Yuzuru just needed to suck it up and be the one to reach out. He offered a thready smile as he reached for his water bottle. Javier tried to return it before he left the boards, but it was a pale imitation of the smiles Yuzuru liked to see from Javier. It left Yuzuru feeling oddly empty.

“You’re looking good,” Brian said with a cheerful smile. Yuzuru bobbed his head, swallowing his water. The supplement he added to it tasted foul, but it did its job well if his body condition over the past season was anything to go by. “I hear you already skated your layout clean?”

“Yeah.” Yuzuru grinned, proud. Completing the planned layout at an ice show - with all the difficulties that arose from smaller, not-so-well maintained ice pertained - was a good omen. He had all summer to fine tune the smaller details, polish the program. Competition environments would always be full of different challenges, but it was a boost to his confidence he needed.

Brian shot him a knowing look. “Are you tempted to mess with it?”

Yuzuru screwed up his mouth, thinking for a moment.  
“No. I think this is good.” He shrugged, smiling. He liked the feeling of challenging himself, but that wasn’t sated by simply landing the jumps. A lot more went into a program than just the jumps. He doubted at this point he would stray from his current plan. “Maybe keep how it is.”

“Maybe.” Brian laughed, knowing all too well how Yuzuru could change his mind over time, his tendency to get distracted by new toys. But Yuzuru’s mind was set for now. The loop was no easy element, the combination as the last pass was a risk, but those challenges were balanced with a sense of assurance that they were possible, plausible. No mental blocks, no doubts. He hoped it would stay that way

Yuzuru watched from the corner of his eyes as Javier ran through his program for Brian to see and assess, was wary of him as they tried a few jumps. Yuzuru lifted himself quickly when he fell and kept his distance when Javier had a misstep. Without the usual music playing in the background, without the other skaters there to fill the empty space between them, the silence and distance between them seemed more pronounced. In some ways it wasn’t abnormal - there had to be distance when they trained simply for safety, they didn’t talk a lot at practices because they were focused on what they were doing. But usually, there was something - a joke in passing, a congratulatory whoop whenever the other landed a jump particularly well, a quick check to make sure they were okay if one of them took a hard fall. There was none of that. Just dead air and the sound of skates on ice.

  
From the edge of the ice Brian made a sharp gesture to Javier, and then Yuzuru, to come over. Yuzuru followed Javier obediently, dragging his feet as much as anyone could on ice. He had the distinct feeling he was about to get scolded.

Brian looked between the two of them, a slight wrinkle forming between his brows. “Are you two okay?”

Yuzuru hesitated but nodded his head. It was precisely the sort of thing he thought Brian would say, but also the exact kind of conversation he didn’t want to have.

“Jeff gave me a heads up that you seemed...off with each other last week,” Brian stated slowly, cautiously, eyes flicking between the two of them.

“It’s nothing,” Javier said flatly.

Yuzuru looked at him edgily. Acknowledging that something was wrong, even in an attempt to downplay it, was not the way to get Brian to drop the subject. Yuzuru had been preparing to give his best puzzled expression and curious head-tilt, complete with a little pout and a sudden loss of English skills. There was no way that would work now.

Brian’s expression turned mildly concerned. “Did you have some kind of argument?”

“No.”

“Kind of.”

If they weren’t on the ice wearing their boots, Yuzuru might’ve been tempted to step on his foot or kick at his ankles. He considered elbowing Javier in the side in censure, but a small, sad thought unfurled from the back of his mind as he dismissed the urge. They didn’t have that kind of relationship right now; the kind where they could fight but still be vaguely playful. Like unruly school children who fought in the playground but when faced with their teacher naturally did what they could to keep each other out of trouble, despite still jabbing each other with pencils and hissing silly insults whenever the teacher’s back was turned. This wasn’t the kind of fight where they always had their friendship as some unspoken fact between the two of them. They weren’t even stood side by side, but with an arm’s length of distance between them.

Yuzuru was a little surprised Jeffrey had even noticed their relationship was in anyway strange in the past week. It wasn’t uncommon for them to prefer the company of other people during ice shows - Yuzuru liked the opportunity to be around other Japanese skaters, while Javier would stick with the English speaking guests. Everyone mingled, but it wasn’t particularly odd for there to be some degree of separation. Yuzuru supposed the difference was that they were, in some small ways, discreetly avoiding each other. Apparently not as discreetly as he thought.

Maybe in previous years, past events, they had some natural distance as they spent some time with somewhat separate friendship groups, but they weren’t cold with each other, they didn’t always have some excuse to not speak which other or be left alone together.

“It happens. But it’s a bit weird for you two,” Brian said with a heavy sigh before turning his focus entirely to Javier. “Did going home not help as much as you thought it would?”

Javier’s face twitched with discomfort. “It helped a little. But. I’m still not right yet.”

Yuzuru glanced at Javier, taking in the tension in his shoulders, the slight bow of his head, the pulled-in, defensive position of his arms. Dread sank fast into the pit of Yuzuru’s stomach. Flashes of Javier from last week played on his mind; little things Yuzuru felt like he should have noticed but didn’t because he was too busy trying to give Javier the space he thought he had needed. It wasn’t just him that Javier had been withdrawn from. In retrospect, Javier had been less social in general. Less talkative. Less quick to joke or join in with laughter. Keeping himself at the edges of groups, in corners of rooms, off with maybe only one or two people at a time. It was a subtle change. Javier was still Javier but somehow...less. Dialled back. Muffled behind some invisible wall.

Yuzuru felt awful. He should have realised sooner. He should’ve reached out more. Tried. It was hard to know what he could really do to help when he had the horrible feeling he was very much part of the problem.

“We’ll talk about it privately later,” Brian said gently. Yuzuru felt as if he was shrinking in his skin. “Is that why you two are a little...?”

“No.” Javier punctuated with a sharp shake of his head. “It’s personal.”

“Personal,” Brian repeated. “Something I might already be aware of?”

Javier shook his head. “No.”

“Yes,” Yuzuru blurted at the same time. Javier turned his head to look at him so quickly Yuzuru wondered how he didn’t pull a muscle.

“Something Yuzu thinks I know, but Javi doesn’t,” Brian said wryly. “I think I can guess.”

Yuzuru thought for a moment that it might be easier, better, to just be honest and tell Brian what happened, but he could feel how tense Javier was. It wasn’t vital - even if Brian could benefit from knowing just in how he managed the two of them together in training all summer. Yuzuru didn’t want to add any undue stress if Javier was feeling the way Yuzuru suspected.

There was being sad in response to things happening in your life, and then there was this. When even small things could feel like too much, where every emotion was replaced with a hollow, cold kind of feeling. The longer it lingered, the harder it was to pull yourself out. Yuzuru didn’t want to add any weight that might send Javier sinking further down into depths he might not be able to break free from in time for the next season. Yuzuru hoped with every fibre of his being that Javier could break out of this depression in time, no matter what contributed to him feeling that way. There didn’t need to be a reason, but it’s not like Javier lacked in things that could push his mood down to low where no light could reach him. His year had been rough with one blow coming after another. If Yuzuru mentally reached back, he could spot signs of it before their argument at World Team Trophy in how much quieter he was at Worlds, how forced everything seemed at the banquet and gala. It was a natural response to losing a title, Yuzuru had tried to lift him up, but there was only so much he could do.

Yuzuru felt a wave of shame at his abject failure to do something. Do more. Be there. Be supportive in some way. Yuzuru wasn’t sure he had the tools to help Javier, but he could at the very least be there for him and ensure Javier knew he cared. He hadn’t.

“Javi, you’re still rooming with Jeff?” Brian asked.  
Javier nodded mutely, Brian turned his focus to Yuzuru. “And...you’re not on your own?”

Yuzuru shook his head.

“He’s with Shoma,” Javier said tartly. Yuzuru’s shoulders slumped further. Javier’s voice had just enough bite in it to make Yuzuru wince.

Brian didn’t seem to catch the slight edge of bitterness to Javier’s tone and just bobbed his head in acknowledgement. “So not a lot of chances to have a private chat, right?”

Yuzuru and Javier nodded together. Brian’s mouth thinned, somewhat fed up with their frigid silence.

“Things were a little tense last season, but that’s going to be nothing compared to next,” Brian started, sounding a little tired.  
“It’ll be better for both of you if you work this out before it can mess with you in later.” He gave each of them a rather pointed looked. “You don’t want any personal issues to distract you.”

Yuzuru looked down at his boots. He knew Brian was right. It wouldn’t be good for them to go into their summer training with their relationship strained. It would be worse if the damage was left unrepaired into the next season. One of the reasons why Yuzuru liked training in Toronto was the atmosphere between the skaters, the feeling of being a kind of team despite competing against each other. Their relationship was a delicate balance between comradery and competition, friendship and rivalry. They needed that rivalry - training with Javier had motivated Yuzuru more positively than anything else in his life because there was no downside, no sadness attached, no tragedy that linked arms with his successes to make them seem bittersweet. The heartbreak was something entirely separate that Yuzuru had fought to keep from touching any other aspect of their relationship. When it came to how they related as two athletes in the same field; their respect for each other, their friendship, even their love for each other meant that they could focus on their own goals and feel happy for each other when goals were met. No hard feelings. With their friendship damaged, their rivalry could turn sour. Without that balance between them, the atmosphere would curdle.

It would be bad for both of them. Javier tended to wilt in negative environments - lapsing into anxiousness and insecurity. While Yuzuru got so much from Javier - he was there when Yuzuru fell to pick him up, he was there for Yuzuru to lean on when everything was overwhelming. He hoped he provided something for Javier in return.

Faced with the possibility of losing Javier, or at the very least their relationship being damaged and never being fully repaired, Yuzuru realised just how much he stood to lose. How much he appreciated Javier and how bad he had been at showing it.

“How about we wrap up here? I can take Jeff out for a little lunch so you two are free to talk. Okay?” Brian offered. Offered. Yuzuru had learned to pick up on the tone of Brian’s voice that meant even if what he said was phrased as a suggestion it absolutely was not. This was undoubtedly one of those times. He wasn’t really offering anything so much as telling the two of them what was going to happen.

That was how Yuzuru ended up sat across from Javier as they mutually perched on the edge of opposite hotel beds. Not looking at each other directly.

Yuzuru spoke first.

“I’m sorry.” Yuzuru huffed out a breath, feeling awkward. “You have a hard time after worlds, right?”

Javier’s expression softened slightly. “It’s not your fault.”

“No. I’m sorry I not support you,” Yuzuru insisted. “When I am sad or feeling pressure or stress or nervous you are there. You help me. I should do same. You need me as friend, and I’m not—“

“There wasn’t much you could do while I was in Spain,” Javier interrupted. Yuzuru shrugged. Maybe not but that wasn’t really the point.

“I made you feel worse,” Yuzuru stated miserably.

Javier didn’t confirm or deny, letting a small bubble of silence speak for itself. Yuzuru felt lost. He wanted desperately to make things better but had no idea how to do it. Space wasn’t working. Talking hadn’t really helped either. Pretending nothing happened wasn’t an option. Just giving Javier what he wanted would create more problems without actually having any guarantee of improving anything.

Javier’s hands fumbled in his lap. Yuzuru wished he would just look up.  
“Have you thought about what you want?”

“I want time,” Yuzuru said desperately. “To think. To…”

Yuzuru wasn’t sure how to put it into words how he was scattered in multiple directions and needed to gather himself back to one place, centred, whole.

“You say you need time,” Javier said, finally looking at Yuzuru. “But you’re still seeing him.”

Yuzuru shifted uncomfortably at the hurt he could see in Javier’s eyes.  
“When shows end I won’t see him for five months.” He frowned, troubled. “Am I bad? For having good time with him before that?”

Javier looked away, arms crossing in front of him, hugging his sides. Yuzuru wavered. His voice grew smaller.  
“Why should I upset him when I don’t need to?”

Javier flared. “But hurting me is fine?”

“No.” Something inside Yuzuru ached. He wanted to reach out and touch Javier’s hand, his knee, anything. But it didn’t seem appropriate anymore. Hurting Javier was the last thing he wanted, and he certainly took no joy or felt any kind of nonchalance about it. “I hate this.”

Javier closed his eyes for a moment and took a breath. “I know,” he said quietly, arms unfolding, some of the tension leaving his shoulders.

“He doesn’t know.” Javier gestured between them. “What’s going on here. You haven’t told him, right?”

“He knows we used to date,” Yuzuru told him sullenly. “He knows I was hurt. I told him that.”

Javier tilted his head, giving Yuzuru a meaningful look. “But not how you feel? Or that I feel the same?”

“What do you expect me to do?” Yuzuru huffed, feeling a bit defensive. “You think I should tell him now? And I shouldn’t room with him or do date with him because you want me again?”

“Maybe.” Javier shrugged, eyes downcast. “I don’t want him to be hurt either. He deserves to know what’s going on.”

“I thought you know him enough to know if I tell him that…He will feel bad and shut down.” Yuzuru frowned. “I might as well end it with him. It would be same thing.”

It was frustrating, to have Javier push for something Yuzuru knew damn well he wouldn’t do if their roles were reversed. It was a long process to get Shoma to open up to him, be comfortable with him. It was a process Yuzuru was reasonably sure was still ongoing. It was a privilege to be allowed such closeness, such honesty, such raw openness from Shoma. Yuzuru didn’t want to spit on that.

“You shouldn’t string him along,” Javier said, more forcefully than before.

“You really think it’s best thing?” Yuzuru snapped. “Or you just want that I break up with him because you say you love me?”

He paused, blowing out a frustrated breath to calm himself. It was a natural response to become defensive and lash out a little when tensions were high, and every time they approached the topic, it was like jabbing at a bruise. But it wouldn’t help. Repeatedly getting angry and honking at each other like geese would not solve their problems. Yuzuru closed his eyes.

“I don’t know what’s best. But I don’t think lying to him is good,” Javier said, voice clipped. A wave of guilt washed over Yuzuru. Was it really lying? Was it so bad to conceal some details to spare Shoma’s feelings?

Yuzuru watched as Javier ran a hand through his hair and let out a heavy sigh. “This is why you didn’t tell me how you felt, right? While I was with Miki. You didn’t want to pressure me into leaving her if I was happy.”

Yuzuru cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

“Are you happy with him?”

Yuzuru let the question hang in the air for a second. Javier raised his eyes to study Yuzuru’s face. Honesty. They needed honesty.

“I...Yes.” Yuzuru licked his lips. His palms felt sweaty, and his stomach felt queasy. “Maybe”

“That’s it then, isn't it?” Javier asked, slumping forwards in quiet resignation. Yuzuru made a small sound of protest in his throat, but Javier shook his head. “I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did.”

“I’m not,” Yuzuru asserted stubbornly.

“Are you sure?”Javier’s tone softened, more well-meaning than anything else. Yuzuru’s eyes focused in on the way Javier’s hands were clasped on his lap, fiddling with his ring. A gift from his mother. A reminder of the love and support he would always have at home.  
“It’s awful. I felt guilty all the time. When I was with Miki, I felt like I was unfaithful to you, when I was with you, I felt like I was unfaithful to her.” Yuzuru looked up at Javier’s face. His expression was strained. “I hated myself. I don’t want you to feel like that.”

“It’s not same thing.” Yuzuru swallowed, his voice came out quieter than he meant it to. “We make no promises to each other yet.”

Javier gave Yuzuru a searching look. “But you want to give him a chance.”

“Yes.”

“Then really you’re rejecting me,” Javier said flatly.

It was hard to breathe.

“Maybe.”

It was difficult to say. Yuzuru didn’t really know if that was what he was doing if he was ready and able to give Javier any kind of definitive answer. Part of the problem was that Yuzuru didn’t want to hurt him, but hedging in attempts to soften the blow wasn’t going to help either of them.

Yuzuru struggled for air, for words, for the will to push any sound from his throat.

“I was ready to try to move on. Now I don’t know.” He paused, taking in the tightness of Javier’s mouth, the defeated tilt of his shoulders. “Maybe we should just try to be friends.”

“What if we can’t do that?” Javier met Yuzuru’s eyes a little sad, a little desperate. “What if we find we both still want more?”

Yuzuru felt his stomach drop even further. “Then I’d end it with Shoma,” he said slowly, carefully. It was a horrible thing to consider. “But I don’t have to tell him I pick you over him. I don’t want to hurt him.” Yuzuru paused. “You should understand.”

Javier let’s out a strange, choked half-laugh. “I guess I do.”

For a moment, they just sit. Awkward silence. The odd tension between them more agitated than in any way relieved. It was like trying to force two magnets together on the same poles, the way the air seemed to feel denser between the two of them, filled with issues that hadn’t been resolved. Little irritations seemed magnified, thoughts that should be disregarded instead crawled under Yuzuru’s skin.

Yuzuru broke the silence.

“You spent break with Miki.”

“I did.” Javier shrugged his shoulders. “I mean. We were in the same place, but we weren’t really there together.”

Yuzuru smiled tightly. “That’s what she said.”

Javier eyed him, brows knotting together. “Is this why you’re hesitating?”

“It’s part of it,” Yuzuru admitted.

Not Miki herself, not even that Javier and Miki were still at least attempting to maintain some kind of workable relationship. It was more what she represented - the misunderstanding that had occurred between them, that Javier felt more comfortable in relationships with women, the betrayal and pain Yuzuru had felt. In so many things, Yuzuru thought he could trust Javier completely. He trusted Javier to train alongside him, to give honest opinions, to offer comfort when it was needed and bring levity whenever he could. But in this area, the trust was broken. Yuzuru could not say that he trusted Javier to be in a relationship with him and not develop some feeling of insecurity that would only be relieved in the arms of a woman.

“I’m friends with her,” Javier explained, sounding tired. “We work together. We still support each other. We might not be lovers anymore, but she’s still the person who knows be the best. We’re still close.”

Yuzuru snorted. “So close friend you still lie to her?”

Javier looked confused. Yuzuru huffed, frustrated. “You say I have to be honest with Shoma, but I know you still haven’t told Miki.”

Javier’s back stiffened. “You should understand why I haven’t.”

“You’re not even with her anymore.”

Yuzuru knew, he had accepted, that Javier hadn’t wanted to hurt Miki while they were together. But they weren’t together, and he was still choosing to not be honest with her. It was hypocritical for Javier to insist that Yuzuru be completely transparent with Shoma when Javier was still hiding things about their relationship from Miki. It wasn’t fair to her for Javier to think she should be satisfied, never really knowing when their relationship had fallen apart, wondering if she had done something wrong.

“How do you know that I haven’t told her?”

“Because I did,” Yuzuru said shortly. “I talk to her in Makuhari.”

It hadn’t been a particularly long conversation or a particularly pleasant one, but it was a topic Yuzuru had been compelled to broach with her. The suggestion from Kanako that Miki had been somewhat aware that Javier was, at least, emotionally straying stirred at the back of Yuzuru’s mind whenever he saw her.

“What?” Javier blustered. “Why?”

“I know Miki had suspicion,” Yuzuru said with a dismissive shrug. “Wanted to know if she suspect me.”

“Did she?” Javier asked edgily. The tone of Javier’s voice, the tension in his body and the alarmed look in his eyes all sends an unpleasant feeling rolling over Yuzuru’s skin. He tried to dismiss it.

“Me asking confirmed it.”

Miki had not been blind to the signs, having learned that lesson the hard way once before. She had wanted some kind of evidence before she considered confronting Javier about it but had never really come up with any. First, she had looked at the girls around Javier. Finding nothing there, she thought maybe she was just paranoid.

It had crept up on her. A small thought that grew bigger and bigger over time. From the way Javier looked at Yuzuru to how he seemed oddly set in keeping the two somewhat separate and Yuzuru’s sudden struggle to be around her.

“What did you tell her?”

“Just that you weren’t cheating on her.”

Javier’s eyes flashed with an odd kind of pain. “She thought that?”

“Not really,” Yuzuru tilted his head, mouth pulled into a half-smile. A poor attempt to lighten the atmosphere in some small way. “But it was still good to hear.”

Miki had been relieved when Yuzuru had assured her there was nothing happening behind her back. Knowing your partner was emotionally involved with someone else would always hurt, but there was some consolation in knowing that at least they had attempted to be faithful and had not been having another relationship with another person.

“She never tried to talk to me about it,” Javier mumbled, sounding distant and cut-off.

“She worry maybe you’re ashamed,” Yuzuru said slowly. “She doesn’t want to make things worse.”

It was a concern that bugged Yuzuru too. With no solid evidence, Miki felt as if she couldn’t accuse Javier of being unfaithful without it causing a problem far more significant than it needed to be. When she concluded that Javier could possibly be interested in Yuzuru, it seemed even more out of the question. Yuzuru could understand that.

Yuzuru remembered when he had asked Javier. Shirtless, well kissed and contently using Javier’s chest as a pillow. Yuzuru had been nineteen and unfamiliar with his sexuality. Aware of it but new to the concept of taking ownership of it. Javier had been the first experience Yuzuru had dived head-first into, but he was also there for the more tentative steps of a more delicate kind of sexual exploration. When Yuzuru had clumsily brought up identity, Javier’s answer had seemed sure and relaxed. It had given Yuzuru the confidence to say plainly, out loud, that he was only interested in men. He had found some comfort in Javier’s lack of opposition when they discussed why they kept it secret.

Looking back, he saw the flaws in his perception at the time. Javier didn’t confidently state his preferences; he hesitated, admitted it in a hushed voice and tried to seem nonchalant for Yuzuru’s benefit. His lack of challenge of Yuzuru’s secrecy wasn’t entirely out of respect and understanding, but because he thought it should be hidden. ' _I don’t date guys_ ' had been an honest statement. ' _But you’re special_ ' had been a platitude to appease him.

When Miki had confessed she thought Javier would react badly to having his sexuality questioned like that, Yuzuru could only agree. It was a horrible feeling that Yuzuru just couldn’t rid himself of; that Javier just wasn’t comfortable with the part of himself that wanted Yuzuru. That maybe Javier justified his feelings by seeing Yuzuru as some exception to the rule.

When would Javier decide the exception didn’t stand?

“It just. It didn’t seem right. To tell her I’m in love with you,” Javier explained. “I guess I’m still thinking of her feelings.”

“But…” Yuzuru frowned. “I don’t think she…”

Miki didn’t seem even remotely interested in having a relationship with Javier. It was water under the bridge at this point. They were done. She was finished.

“I know.” Javier managed a small, genuinely amused smile. “We’re not getting back together. “But sometimes feelings don’t just disappear...”

“They change.” Yuzuru’s face twisted bitterly. It was something he had heard before. He could practically hear the sentiment being said in his sister’s voice, in the comfort of his childhood bedroom. It was just a few days ago that Saya had talked with him. She had given him a lot to think about. She had never been in this kind of situation, but he valued her advice anyway. Other people Yuzuru might consider talking to had reasons to push him in one direction or another, Saya didn't. The only thing he cared about was Yuzuru's happiness.

Javier breath stuttered. “Have your feelings changed?”

“I don’t know,” Yuzuru confessed. “When I first love you it was...happy. Best happy feeling. Being with you was the happiest I could be.” Yuzuru looked up and smiled. Javier mirrored him. They both looked pained.

“Then it hurt. I wanted to be with you. I wanted to talk to you and touch you. But it hurt because I should only see you as a friend and I wanted more.” Yuzuru lowered his gaze. Javier’s expression was growing sadder by the second, and it hurt to watch the regret build in his eyes.

Yuzuru wondered how much over-idealisation painted his memories of them being together. All he could remember was balmy summer days sprawled out somewhere in Javier’s apartment, cuddling up on Javier’s bed feeling loose and relaxed listening to his heartbeat. Every memory was a whirlwind of excitement and kisses, the thrill of being touched and the satisfaction that followed. Smiles, laughter, soft touches and sweet affection. It couldn’t be true. But that was how the mind works when you are nineteen and in the grips of a first love.

That’s the problem with memories. They are unreliable. They get warped and twisted with time. Changing as feelings do.

When Yuzuru felt like he wanted to love Javier, he’s remembered the good times. Mundane things; cooking together or more accurately, Yuzuru passing things to Javier so he could cook. Washing up afterwards and playing with the bubbles. Eating ice cream. Lazily watching tv with his head pillowed on Javier’s belly. Or other moments from before they were together or afterwards. Javier holding him through a panic attack. Javier wiping his tears. Laughing at competitions. Sitting in the park, head resting on Javier’s shoulder.

And when he felt like he wanted to move on he remembered other things. Kanako at Nationals holding him as he cried. Shoma reaching out, trying to make him feel better without prying. Javier being overbearing. Javier’s tendency to say things that hinted towards how he felt without really saying it leaving Yuzuru feeling raw and confused.

Yuzuru thought about the photographs still buried on his computer hard drive. He couldn’t bring himself to delete them. He thought that photographs could be more reliable them memories alone, but they weren’t. The pictures he had of them together weren’t tautological artefacts that proved anything about their relationship other than it had happened, that they had both been there.

The last time he looked at them was more recently than he should have. After World Team Trophy. After Javier had told Yuzuru, he loved him. Even more recently, while he rested in Sendai after they had finally brought their different perspectives together.

He saw them in a new light. He used to look at them with the pain of not knowing how Javier felt at the time. Now he knew, and they seemed to change. Not windows into the past or questions waiting to be answered, not evidence left to be interpreted. Yuzuru didn’t search them, scanning, asking himself ‘did he love me?’. Now they were like snapshots of missed opportunities. Moments when one of them should have said what they felt and made themselves clear. Where would they be now, if they had?

Each photograph made Yuzuru think about some other time, some parallel universe where after the picture was taken, they had said what they felt. On some different planet, in some other galaxy maybe after taking a photograph they lowered the camera, kissed, whispered ‘I love you’. Perhaps they would be together now. Or not. Maybe they would have ended anyway.

Yuzuru felt more and more as time passed that it just didn’t matter. All the ‘ _what if_ ’s, all the ‘ _maybe_ ’s. They didn’t matter.

Yuzuru looked up, meeting Javier’s pensive gaze. He smiled weakly. “It got easier. But the feeling was still there. A nice feeling but pain. Bitter. I stopped wanting to stay in love with you but...it’s hard.”

Hard to let go. The feeling was written into him. Not something he just feels, not something he can pinpoint or touch. But something that’s part of him. Like a sunburn that left freckles behind, long after the redness and soreness faded, after the skin and peeled and the tan reverted back to normal. No longer raw but still there.

It’s hard to let go of those little things, but Yuzuru knows he must if they are to move forward as friends. For too long he was too in love with what they could have been. That wasn’t a private though buried in the depths of his heart anymore. It wasn’t a harmless weakness he turned to, giving an oddly comforting kind of pain whenever he turned to it. Now it was an obstacle that threatened to get in the way of Javier and Yuzuru attempting to repair the cracks in their relationship.

Yuzuru had to let it go. He knew it. He closed his eyes and spoke softly.

“I don’t know if I can go back to just happy feeling. It might be easier to be friends.”

Javier paused, breath catching painfully in his throat. “Are you falling in love with Shoma?”

“It’s too early.” Yuzuru stuttered, hesitating. Thinking about it for a moment, considering how he felt for Shoma. “I think I could. I think I can.”

It was way too soon. To declare that he was falling in love with Shoma could place an unnecessary burden on their relationship when they weren’t sure if they were serious yet. But if they could make it past the off season. If they made it through the Grand Prix series, the Olympic pressure...

It was different to how he had felt with Javier, but no one loved two people the exact same way. The two relationships couldn’t be comparable because they should not be compared. The people were different, the situation, the events that lead to them coming together…

Given time, given some sense of security, Yuzuru thought that what he felt for Shoma could root deeper, grow larger. He could picture himself being in love with Shoma - wholly, unreserved, unrestrained.

Maybe Yuzuru could love Javier again in a new way. Maybe it would be a slightly different feeling than the first time. But that was okay. Maybe they could heal, be happy. Maybe it would be better. More honest, more open.

There were no scars with Shoma; no bitterness or broken trust or fear and, at the moment, no real pressure. Not every relationship has to be serious. They could just enjoy each other, for as long as they could, and part when the time came. Maybe they’d never want to part. Maybe they’d enjoy being together for years and years stretching indefinitely into the future. It was best to not go into anything with that kind of expectation.

Yuzuru wondered if their feelings would have lingered for so long if Javier had been clearer about his intentions, or if Yuzuru hadn’t been as hurt as he was. If it had ended differently, without the misunderstands, maybe they would’ve put it behind them easier.

“If you don’t love him yet,” Javier started, carefully moderating his tone to sound neutral. “Why is he so hard to give up?”

Yuzuru frowned. “I don’t think you know what you are asking me to give up.” He paused, trying to suppress the urge to verbally step back, and soften the edges. He failed. “But. I don’t really know either yet.”

Yuzuru bit his lip unhappily. When it came to talking about Shoma to Javier, he was in the habit of downplaying. He avoided being clear about what was happening or how he felt out of fear that he would feed the jealousy Javier had initially displayed, or hurt him. He needed to stop. It wasn’t effective.

That much was clear from the bitterness that crept into Javier’s voice as he said, “I guess now you’re figuring that out.”

“Kind of.” Yuzuru murmured. “I guess I won’t really know until I’m back in Toronto. But. It’s easy. Being with him.” Yuzuru could help but to smile in reminiscence. “Nearly like we were. But different.”

He remembered the slow fall. How they were always friends but not friends. Always drawing closer. Things with Shoma don’t have the same pull or passion or rush of intense feelings. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Maybe Yuzuru was just older. Perhaps it was because it wasn’t all new, Yuzuru’s ‘first times’ had already been taken away. His pace with Shoma was more direct, but also more leisurely. Slowly opening up to each other, learning each other, friendship and romance growing together. Yuzuru and Javier had spent so much time playing hide-and-seek with their feelings, skirting around their attraction, being friends and training mates and competitors before they took the leap. Yuzuru had lept. He had fallen. It had hurt.

Yuzuru didn’t have to leap and hope Shoma would catch him. It was a different game that they played.

“It might seem easy now,” Javier said, deflated. “But long distance relationships are really hard.”

Yuzuru tilted his head. Javier rolled his eyes. “It’s not just this year, you won’t see him for ten months out of twelve.”

“Unless I retire and move back to Japan.” Javier shot Yuzuru a look as if he was a total idiot. Yuzuru grinned. He knew he was transparent and Javier saw right through him. He didn’t want to retire yet. Yuzuru shook his head. “Me and you are same though. There are months we don’t see each other.”

“We have time apart in the season,” Javier nodded in agreement. “We’re together a lot more.”

“But.” Yuzuru closed his eyes for a moment, sorting through his thoughts, trying to figure out how he wanted to say this in English. “Next year maybe you don’t train with me anymore.” Yuzuru looked at Javier sadly. It was hard to think about. Hard to say. “You go back to Spain and stay there. I only see you maybe at ice show.”

Javier shook his head. “I don’t think that will happen. Even if we don’t-- even if we’re not together.” Yuzuru forced a weak smile. Javier shrugged. “But if we are together? Maybe I’ll stay in Toronto. Or I’ll split my time between Canada and Spain. And when you move back to Japan. Maybe I’ll go with you. Or we’d go back and forth.” Javier smiles. Sad but vaguely hopeful. “We’d work it out.”

Whatever Yuzuru had expected, it wasn’t that. He was overwhelmed; to hear that Javier saw them as maybe being a long time thing, worth changing his future career plans for. Yuzuru’s head ran blank from shock. White noise. It was something he thought he wanted to hear from Javier. But when it was offered to him, Yuzuru thought it was too much. He wasn’t sure he could handle that amount of commitment and responsibility. They wouldn’t have long to figure it out either; for a lot of the year, they were bound to have the same problem Yuzuru would have with Shoma - a lack of time available to really invest in each other. As fragile as they were, Javier’s post-retirement plans were far too heavy a weight to place on their relationship.

Javier broke through Yuzuru’s haze with a single tentative question. “Do you think we wouldn’t be good together?”

“I-I don’t know?” Yuzuru answered, still a little stunned. “I want different things now. I don’t know if you can give.”

“Like what?”

Yuzuru grimaced. It wasn’t really multiple things. It was one, large thing.  
“Shoma...He’s told friends. He’s told his family. That he likes boys; that he likes me.” A kind of recognition started to trickle into Javier’s eyes. Yuzuru continued. “If I wanted I could meet his family as his boyfriend. I could hold his hand in front of friends. I could still be private but not hide.”

Yuzuru knew that Javier caught the real weight of what he was saying. He hoped Javier was starting to understand why a potential relationship with Shoma was something he just wasn’t willing to throw away easily. Once it had been enough to just be together. It didn’t matter that it was hidden, to never be spoken of in the presence of friends. That wasn’t enough anymore. Telling people close to him, being open and honest with them, was like removing a bandage that was wound too tight. He didn’t want to restrict himself further than he needed to. There was a difference between caution and fear. Yuzuru was not afraid. Not anymore.

“You said you were ashamed. Are you still?” Yuzuru asked. He could predict what Javier would say, it would be how he said it that would be important.

Javier seemed taken aback by the question and stammered. “I...No.”

Yuzuru was not convinced. He got the real answer in the hesitation and shake of Javier's voice.

“So if I have meal with your family again, they will meet me as your boyfriend?” He asked, watching carefully for Javier’s reaction. The subtle shift of discomfort, arms drawing in closer. “You would let friends we trust to know?”

“Yes. Eventually.” Javier’s voice was stilted. Maybe he meant it. Maybe he would try. But Yuzuru could see the shadows of doubt and reluctance. Javier huffed. “I didn’t know you wanted people to know.”

Yuzuru laughed softly. “I don’t. Not everyone. But I don’t want to be...secret.”

Yuzuru was still wary of the consequences. He knew what would happen if that part of his life ever came into the public light. That problem had not disappeared and would not for a long time. Public figures in Japan are were barely allowed to date. Public figures in Japan can could not be openly gay and keep their careers. It wouldn’t matter how hard-working, skilful or successful Yuzuru was, he would be tainted in the public view. He would have to live his life in Japan being scorned. Any career he wanted to have after his competitive career ended would be damaged significantly before it could begin. He would lose sponsorship and federation support overnight. He had to be careful.

But he didn’t live his life for the federation or the media or the public. Shoma’s influence had him slowly breaking down that fear. Shoma challenged Yuzuru’s secrecy and showed that it maybe wasn’t necessary to close off entire parts of his life from friends and family. Shoma urged Yuzuru to have a little faith in the people he loved.

Yuzuru had always known, deep down, his family supported him unconditionally. But fear always lingered in some dark corner that after all he’d done, that after everything he put them through, this one thing would be too much.

He was loud and annoying, stubborn, disobedient. He always caused them to worry whether it be when he was a baby struggling to breathe, or when he was stupid and tried something he wasn’t supposed to and gave himself a concussion or a million other times he’s driven his family mad because he’d lied about pain or fought through an injury. He always did what he wanted even when people told him not to and ignored warnings and said he was fine when he wasn’t.

So many people had this image of him being a prince, a good boy, the ideal son. He wasn’t. He couldn’t cook, he never did his chores, he left his homework to the last minute and handed it in unfinished. He played video games all night. He banged around his room all evening and sang too loud, he was always tripping or stumbling or knocking things over. He loved showing off and getting attention and pestering people. His mother never called him her angel so much as she frequently called him a pain in the neck.

And still, his family loved him, stood by him, supported him. But he had always feared that this one thing about him, that one last flaw that marked their son, would be the one thing they couldn’t put up with.

He didn’t have that fear anymore. He would never have that fear ever again.

Yuzuru gathered himself, looking at Javier directly.  
“Why would I go back to you if you are ashamed of me?”

“I’m not.” Javier leant forwards, his expression softening to something less guarded. More vulnerable. “I told you. I don’t care as much as I used to.”

“But you still care.”

“I’d be willing to deal with it though,” Javier insisted. “You think I’m in denial too?”

Yuzuru pressed his lips together into a thin line. That was exactly what he thought. “Maybe.”

Javier sighed, hand coming to rub at his face in frustration. “How many times do I have to say I’m not before you believe me?”

“Saying it isn’t enough.” Yuzuru shook his head. “You don’t want to say to Brian. You won’t say to family--”

“I talked to Raya about it.”

Yuzuru almost gasped. Another surprise. “You did?”

“He made me realise some things.” Javier bobbed his head, scooting a little further forwards on his bed. “Some ways I was bad to you.” His hand starts to reach out to where Yuzuru has his own clasped on his knees. The room is small enough, the beds close enough, that were within reach of each other. Javier stopped himself, pulled himself back.

“I don’t want to talk to Brian because, as much as I trust him, he’s already told me once he doesn’t want to be involved,” Javier said matter-of-factly. “And I’ll tell my family when there’s something to tell and I’m ready to. I’m not ready right now, but that doesn’t mean never.”

Yuzuru stared at Javier for a moment before taking his head into his hands and groaning. “This is so hard.”

That was two things Javier had said that Yuzuru had never expected to hear. But still, Yuzuru wasn’t sure. Even with the changes, Javi was willing to make. Yuzuru had doubts. These things were easy to say but not so easy to deliver.

The fact was that Yuzuru had thought his feelings were starting to change. His love had started to cool, the fire had started to die and now Javier was poking at the embers to reignite them. Yuzuru had been getting ready to move on and now he was stuck. He could go back and start again with Javier and it could be different and happy and good but he could choose Shoma and be happy with him too.

Javier being ready to commit to him was daunting, too much of a sudden change. But it was something that Yuzuru had wanted to hear so desperately before. If only he had been ready sooner.

If only Javier had said all of this back in December.

Javier’s hands clench against his thighs as if still fighting the urge to reach forward and touch, comfort. “I wish I could make it easier for you but I don’t know what you’re waiting for.”

Yuzuru laughed bitterly. “I don’t know either.” He looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “A sign.”

He thought he had been waiting to hear Javier say that he loved him. He thought he was waiting to hear Javier say he wouldn’t be ashamed, that he’d let them date somewhat openly, that they’d date seriously in a relationship that was started without an end in mind. Now he had no idea what was holding him back, what was stopping him from taking everything he had wanted for so long. It just wasn't enough for Javier to say the words and make those promises. Words are fleeting. Promises break.

“Two years. Two years and being with other people and hurting and trying to not feel it but I still love you,” Javier said gently.

Yuzuru looked down. He always loved this kind of tone to Javier’s voice. When his voice was a little lower and his accent came out muffled. It was hard to understand, at first, but Yuzuru got used to the cadence of Javier’s voice and his Spanish accent. He liked when Javier spoke like this. English could be such a blunt and awkward language but the words came from Javier’s mouth more rounded and fuzzy. Calming. Javier looked at him steadily, eyes almost doe-like with his long lashes and flecks of gold in the light brown. Yuzuru’s heart quivered.  
Javier’s lips curled into a small, private smile. “And you still love me. Is that not enough of a sign?”

Was love enough?

“I don’t think so,” Yuzuru said, unsure. “I don’t know.”

It should be enough. But it wasn’t. In movies, it was enough. In stories, it was enough. But for them, it wasn’t. Just love was not enough to magically fix the broken trust and broken heart. Love didn’t take away what had happened. Love didn’t remove Shoma from the equation. Love didn’t bridge over language and cultural differences. Love didn’t somehow fix their damaged friendship. If Yuzuru threw himself into Javier’s arms right now, broke up with Shoma right now, chose him right now...those problems would still be there. Yuzuru still wouldn’t trust Javier completely. Javier would still feel jilted. They would still have to recalibrate how they communicate. They’d still have to relearn how to be around each other, knowing that they had made mistakes and hurt each other.

“You think how we are now is good to start dating?” Yuzuru asked pointedly.

“No.”

Javier seemed to take it in and accept it. They needed to get rid of the negative feelings that had been festering for years. Bitterness, loss of trust, the remnants of a broken heart. He had feared that talking about their past would harm them, whether Shoma was in the picture or not. It had. But it gave them an opportunity to make things better. And really, Yuzuru didn’t think he would feel that much differently if Shoma wasn’t a factor. Flinging themselves back into a romantic relationship with so many issues in communication and hurt feelings was a terrible idea.

But Shoma was a factor. A large factor. Bigger than Yuzuru had first thought.

Javier let out a breath that seemed to deflate him entirely. Yuzuru felt the jolt of fear he had felt in Makuhari. The fear of losing Javier completely.

“I want to stay friends.”

“I know.”

“This season is so big and stressful, and we both have pressure.” Yuzuru felt a bubble of desperation rise within him. Javier had withdrawn into himself again. The walls going back up behind his eyes.  
“I need you. I will need you.”

“I know. I’m gonna need you too,” Javier responded. There was a tightness in his voice that struck Yuzuru. Javier tried to moderate his expression, but Yuzuru saw through the cracks. Defeated. Depressed. Insecure. “I’ll try. To be friends. Nothing more.”

“Javi…” Yuzuru ached. He wanted to reach out and take Javier’s hand. He longed to pitch himself forwards and hold him. If he thought it would be any comfort he would have. He wasn’t sure it would be. Touch had always been Javier’s first step when it came to giving comfort, but it hadn’t always been what Yuzuru needed. He didn’t want to assume, only to cause Javier some kind of additional pain.

“I’ll talk to Brian about making my vacation a bit longer,” Javier said glumly.

“Maybe that will be good.” Yuzuru bobbed his head, miserable.

That was one of the differences between Yuzuru and Javier. During the off-season, Javier preferred to have a long break. He would do some shows, some training but in Spain, on his own schedule, so he had more free time to be with friends and family, resting, doing other things. Yuzuru didn’t really do that. It would make him too nervous, while to opposite was true of Javier. If he spent to whole off season diligently training in Toronto, he’d be a wreck before October.

Javier extending his vacation likely would do him some good mentally. It might do them both some good. Give them the space they both needed. Let the dust settle. Reset.

“Is it too much to ask for a hug?” Javier asked, voice thick.

Yuzuru shook his head frantically, biting down on his bottom lip to stop it from trembling. He practically launched himself across to sit beside Javier, gathering him into his arms and holding him tight. There’s a sense of relief, in feeling Javier wrap his arms around Yuzuru and stuffed his head into the crook of his neck. The invisible wall that had sat between them finally breached. Yuzuru clung at Javier, rubbed at his shoulder. He felt brittle as if he would break apart if Javier were to squeeze him.

Yuzuru knew he was not the sole cause of Javier’s problems. He would not take that blame. It was a lot of things. It was chemistry and snowball of events that had been building through the year. But Yuzuru was part of the problem. One source of sorrow pouring into a man who was already overflowing with stress, disappointment, worry and regret. He had never wanted that. This was a mess he never wanted to be a part of.

If only he had kept his mouth shut. If only he had said nothing. If only they could rewind back to that night in France and Yuzuru could have the sense to keep a degree of distance between them so they never would have almost-kissed and never would have been forced to admit that feelings still existed between the two of them. Maybe Javier would have broken up with Miki anyway, but not so soon. Maybe they would have let each other go.

Maybe not. Maybe Javier still would have ended up hurt. Maybe they’d still end up right at this point.

“I’m sorry. I really am,” Yuzuru croaked, rubbing at Javier’s back. Sorry for dragging him further down when he should be lifting up. Sorry for not letting go. Sorry for allowing so many opportunities pass by.

“Me too,” Javier whispered hoarsely into Yuzuru’s collarbone.

Yuzuru has missed this. Being close. Being there, for each other, together. It had been so long since the last time they had been able to touch, hug, and just enjoy the affection in the action. Yuzuru was also always wanting. Questioning. Feeling like it was an indulgence he didn’t deserve.

He hoped that Javier was not feeling that way now.

Yuzuru could only hope that this was the first step towards some kind of improvement. That this time, when Yuzuru left the room and returned to his own, they were parting with some kind of conclusion. Last time they spoke, they hadn’t managed that. They had been calm, they had said things that were long overdue, but they had widened the distance between them instead of closing it. They left knowing each other’s perspectives, but not any closer to any kind of resolution. At least now they would be left with some understanding.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Yuzuru whispered, the words slipping out of him without him meaning to say it. His stomach was doing flips. He felt like a scared child clinging to his blanket. Lost. “You’re too important.”

Javier huffed against his neck, Almost a laugh. Yuzuru felt the light brush of Javier’s eyelashes against his skin as he opened his eyes and blinked. Then Javier straightened himself in Yuzuru’s arms to look him in the eyes. The sadness wasn’t gone, but some of the light had returned. Something in Javier had been soothed. Probably not all the way and likely nowhere near enough. But it was an improvement.

“Even if this sucks.” Javier brought his hands to Yuzuru’s face as he spoke. Thumbs stroked his cheeks. Javier pressed their foreheads together. Close enough that his whisper was barely a breath from Yuzuru’s skin. “I love you.”

“Don’t,” Yuzuru warned, pulling back. It was that kind of thing that set off this mess in the first place. Getting too close. Yuzuru wondered if this was how Javier had felt back in France. The sudden drop in his stomach that the closeness was wrong.

Except Javier had said that he had wanted to kiss Yuzuru. He had thought of Miki and stopped himself. He had to stop himself.  
Yuzuru didn't need to think of Shoma to stop himself from letting Javier kiss him right then. He didn't want it. He wanted to comfort Javier, hold him, give him affection. But he didn't want to kiss him. Not right then. Not anymore.

“I wouldn’t,” Javier said as he pulled himself back, letting Yuzuru go. “I’m scared if I do I’ll push you away.”

Yuzuru’s heart twisted. Javier attempted a strange kind of smile. Perhaps he meant for it to be somewhat assuring but it just made Yuzuru’s heart ache more.

“I don't want to lose you either.”

There it was. Some kind of common ground. Something they could agree on without question. Something they understood about each other completely.

Yuzuru returned to his hotel room and sat on the bed, staring at his suitcase. Shoma hadn’t arrived yet. He wouldn’t arrive for hours. Which was good because Yuzuru felt drained. He needed some time alone.  
  


***

 

Yuzuru had pretty much the whole afternoon to himself, which was a welcomed relief. It was a decent stretch of time to go through the routine he had developed after training. Not that he couldn’t do that with Shoma there, they both had similar boxes to check off when a practice or performance was over, the differences were in the details. Still, it meant he wasn’t totally idle the whole time. He ate, he soothed the muscles in his legs and took care of his feet and ankles, had a little nap, shuffled around the room deciding where his things would live for the week.

Yuzuru tried to keep himself doing something as time passed because if he stopped with nothing else to focus on, he thought about his conversation with Javier. He didn’t want to dwell on it. What was said could not be unsaid. They both needed to go forward from that point. Move on.

The sun had started to set, and Yuzuru had already forced himself to eat dinner by the time Shoma messaged him. Yuzuru wished he had arrived earlier. He hated eating alone.

‘ _Hey. I should be there soon! Maybe 20 minutes?_ ’

Yuzuru read the message with a little smile and quickly tapped back his response. After a bit of back-and-forth, they decided to watch a movie. Yuzuru got his laptop in prime position on the bed, set up and ready to go.

Twenty minutes was apparently an optimistic guess. Yuzuru was spaced out playing a game on his phone when, eighteen minutes after he was due to arrive, Shoma awkwardly opened the door and crashed into the room

Yuzuru put down his phone and looked at how Shoma was almost overbalanced from his backpack, struggling to pull his suitcase behind him with his right hand and holding a drinks carrier in his right, keeping the door open with his shoulder having seemingly pushed the door open with his elbow. He should have just knocked. Like a sensible person.

“Do you need help?” Yuzuru asked, rolling off the bed, cautious to not kick off his laptop which was still patiently displaying the movie they had chosen, paused right at the beginning, waiting to be played.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Shoma huffed, shaking his head as he lugged the suitcase past the doorway, not quite in the room enough for the door to close. He grinned brightly and displayed the drinks carrier to Yuzuru. “I got bubble tea.”

“Yay!” Yuzuru clapped his hands and bounded over.

Shoma held out his arm for Yuzuru to take it and finally got himself all the way in. Yuzuru looped towards the bed, putting the drinks down on the bedside table before flopping back down. He wiggled to the side, making room for Shoma beside him.

“Is that why you’re so late?” Yuzuru teased, looking over at where Shoma was abandoning his suitcase right next to the door and hastily dumping his backpack on the free bed. “Because you were getting bubble tea?”

“I got the bubble tea because I was late,” Shoma corrected, opening his backpack. “And, I got popcorn. Since we’re watching a movie.”

Shoma lobbed the bag of popcorn he produced at Yuzuru. Yuzuru caught it before it could hit him in the face and grinned.

“You’re the best.”

Shoma beamed and flopped beside him.Yuzuru shuffled down just enough that he could start the movie by skillfully hitting the spacebar with his foot.

They adjusted for a moment; Yuzuru wiggling his butt back up the bed enough to be comfortable, wrapping an arm around Shoma’s waist while Shoma slung an arm around his shoulders. Yuzuru was kind of stuck with having to rest his head somewhere between Shoma’s shoulder and cheek unless he hauled himself up into a more upright position, but that was fine. Shoma had helpfully wedged a pillow behind him so he could recline more comfortably. There was a pleasant novelty to feeling smaller than Shoma. Yuzuru got to cuddle up and use Shoma as his pillow. Towering over him was great, but this kind of position worked for him too.

Shoma handed him his drink and reached for the popcorn.

“How long have you been here?” Shoma asked, sounding a bit distracted as he struggled with the bag.

Yuzuru held himself back from telling Shoma to get some scissors and internally winced when he successfully ripped it open, like an animal, and the edges were uneven. Really, Yuzuru should protest eating a drinking in the bed. But he could always ditch that bed and sleep in the clean one which would be free of the inevitable crumbs. It’s not like they were assigned or anything.

Yuzuru jabbed the straw into his tea and gave it a swirl. “All day?”

Shoma looked surprised, Yuzuru shrugged and explained, “We came early. Brian wanted to get some training in.”

“Oh. Sorry I was late then.”

“It’s fine. I had time to ice my legs and stuff while I waited,” Yuzuru mumbled. He took a rather tentative sip of his tea and smiled. Shoma had ordered his with reduced sugar. Yuzuru liked sweet things, but only in moderation. Sweet drinks gave him a headache. It was good of Shoma to think of that.  
“How was America?”

“Good.” Shoma offered some popcorn to Yuzuru, shaking some out into his hand carefully. “I think there was a theme, but I didn’t prepare anything for it.”

“I’m sure they didn’t mind,” Yuzuru said before stuffing the popcorn into his mouth.

“They didn’t,” Shoma said lightly. “They’re always really nice to me. The crowd was really good.”

There was a pause as the took a moment to pay a little attention to the film and Shoma chewed on a tapioca pearl. “It was a bit weird.”

“How?”

Shoma looked a little sheepish. “I’m not really used to being treated like the star of the show.”

“I don’t know how to tell you this,” Yuzuru teased, looking up at Shoma, wrinkling his nose a little. “But you’re a world silver medalist and number two in world rankings. You’re kind of a big deal.”

Shoma laughed and shook his head. “It’s still weird. It wasn’t like this last year.”

“I’m usually with you or Javi, or Daisuke, Mao…” Shoma gestured with his hand. There were a lot of ‘stars’ in Japan. Skaters that were popular while they competed and held onto that popularity as they transitioned to being professionals. A few foreign skaters that were well liked and pulled their fair share of focus whenever they performed.

Shoma had a fair amount of admirers as a junior, got a good amount of attention as he got older and his skills started to grow and refine. But in the last season, his popularity and reputation really rocketed. The more Shoma carved out his own little niche - no longer just the little junior who admired Daisuke Takahashi, and less the ‘other’ Japanese skater to be compared to Yuzuru - the more attention he got. Audiences were starting to see and appreciate Shoma more as an individual, rather than just in reference to people who came before him. That pleased Yuzuru. Shoma had some areas left to work on, but he had good qualities to his skating that Yuzuru enjoyed. He had established himself as a good rival, a strong competitor. Knowing that he would continue to improve, and had grown so rapidly already, was a very effective motivator for Yuzuru to get on the ice and work on his own skating.

Yuzuru knew, though, that it was hard to adjust when the audience turns to you so quickly. Making a name for yourself didn’t just mean attracting support from fans of the sport, it also meant attracting their expectations, extra pressure, and more criticism. More eyes might be looking at your strengths and praising them, but just as many eyes would look at your weaknesses.

Sometimes it was easier to be one name in a cast of stars. Get lost in the crowd.

“Do you prefer that?”

“It’s less pressure,” Shoma shrugged. “But. It’s nice to have an audience excited to see you.”

Yuzuru chuckled. “Definitely.”

There had been times when Yuzuru had gone out to skate, and no one cheered for him. It had been a very cold and lonely feeling. Yuzuru was confident he’d never experience that again, not with the kind of following he had gained after Sochi. It would have been easy to take it all for granted, let the attention go to his head and get cocky. In a way, Yuzuru was glad he had experienced how it felt to have no one cheer for him, for no one to be excited to see him skate because those memories stopped him from taking the support he had for granted. In some ways, he had earned it. But not really. Love wasn’t something anyone was entitled to or earned. It wasn’t something anyone was obligated to give. It was a gift. And should always be valued as such.

Yuzuru tried to never forget the value of the support he received.

“What was the weirdest moment for you?”

“The first time I got security guards?” Yuzuru answered, shuffling to sit upright. His back had started to ache “Who would think a figure skater would need security?”

Yuzuru wouldn’t say he ever felt particularly threatened by the people who gathered to see him at competitions, but it could be overwhelming. Security was mostly there to control the crowds for everyone’s sake rather than to protect Yuzuru specifically. They were a necessity. It was weird that they were a necessity.

Shoma hummed in agreement. “Yeah. I’m glad I don’t need anything like that.”

He nudged in close, their previous positioned reversed so now it was Shoma leaning on Yuzuru. Though Yuzuru was still slouching somewhat, so they were more or less even. That meant Shoma could look straight at him, rather than having to look up. “I’m always amazed at how well you handle it.”

Yuzuru snorted. “I’m always struggling to block it all out.”

“Yeah, but when you weren’t at Nationals…” Shoma paused. Yuzuru understood. There were only a few times he had seen Shoma crumble under pressure. One had been his first appearance at the world championships, but at least part of that had been due to Shoma’s sensitive circadian rhythm that saw him getting whacked with jet lag harder than Yuzuru ever had felt it. But last season’s nationals had been Shoma’s first time really feeling all the weight on his shoulders.

“I was a mess.” Shoma looked at Yuzuru with an odd mix of respect and empathy. “You have that all the time and ten times worse. I don’t know how you do it.”

“Loud music and video games,” Yuzuru smirked. Shoma snorted.

“Does it get easier?”

“Not really,” Yuzuru said kind of cheerfully, but honest. “I guess you learn ways to cope with it, but it’s always really weird.”

It couldn’t really get easier because the pressure was always changing. Sometimes it would be lighter, and sometimes it would be a heavy burden that pressed down on his shoulders. Maybe it would be different for Shoma. There were some hardships that were unique to Yuzuru. And Shoma would have his own too. Yuzuru had the deal with carrying the labels of ‘survivor’ and ‘the hope of Tohoku’, since adolescence, and deal with the frequent intrusions into his private thoughts of a personal trauma that came with such a status. Then the weight of being an Olympic champion and all the rest was added on. Every year the situation changed. But the same could said of anyone. Maybe Yuzuru’s path had been harder, but no one’s path had been easy.

Yuzuru shrugged. “But it’s not like it will get any worse for me. Even if I get gold at Pyeongchang, I don’t think things would change much.”

“Yeah.”

Things would change for Shoma. If he made the team and got a medal, everything would change. And there was little doubt in Yuzuru’s mind that both those things would happen. Shoma would make the Olympic team unless he got horrifically injured, and if he skated well, he would get a medal. Even if he didn’t get gold, Shoma’s life would change irreversibly.

Shoma knew that. Yuzuru could tell from the look in his eyes. “I guess things will get crazy after Olympics, but I’m trying not to think about it.”

“It’s not bad. It’s difficult, and there’s a lot of pressure, but there are good parts too.” Good parts. Like the support that came in waves. Whenever Yuzuru faced a new hardship, he knew he didn’t face it alone. But his pool of strength had grown from just his family to thousands of people. Shoma nodded slowly. Yuzuru knew Shoma understood. He remembered how Shoma had shown his messages of support at Worlds. He knew that it didn’t always feel like pressure. Fans and admirers weren’t really a burden but allies while they fought for their dreams.  
Yuzuru smiled. “You want to win, right?”

“I guess. If you don’t win, then I hope I do? I’m focusing more on just wanting to get there and not bomb,” Shoma said flatly, but there was a curl to his lips that gave him away. His eyes lowered, looking shy.

“I’m scared the pressure will get to me.”

“Me too,” Yuzuru admitted. “I think you handle pressure pretty well though?”

Shoma shook his head and groaned, leaning into Yuzuru just a little more. “I’m really-- I want to do well and skate my best but…” He huffed. Finding the words could be frustrating. Shoma wasn’t like Yuzuru. He wanted a lot, but he wasn’t as loose-lipped about it. Yuzuru blurted his ambitions as if saying them out loud made them more tangible, more than just abstract thoughts in his head. He freely shared his dreams to be the best, to be a complete package, to reach his ideal and go above it. Shoma preferred to be a bit more private about it.

“I think I’d rather perform well and feel satisfied I did my best but still score below you than have you mess up so I can win? Winning would be great but not if it means I have to see you miserable.” Shoma shrugged and looked at Yuzuru. “I guess I care more about you being happy than a gold medal. But. I want to do well too.”

Yuzuru felt like something inside him was melting. Shoma’s cheeks were slowly turning pink as Yuzuru stared at him with growing fondness. Yuzuru wanted to squish his face and hug him tight.

“I really want to see you happy too.”

The smile that spread over Shoma’s face was like a little beam of sunlight. He moved closer to kiss Yuzuru’s lips. A sweet peck.

Shoma’s drew back. “I still want to beat you.”

“I’ll be happy for you when you do,” Yuzuru laughed. “I like feeling you breathing on my neck. It’s very motivating.”

Shoma sniggered and playfully blew on Yuzuru’s neck. Sometimes things that worked in English really didn’t translate at all into Japanese. Yuzuru really had to stop copying things Brian said so much if bits of weird English was getting stuck in his head like that.

Yuzuru tickled Shoma’s side, making him squawk and press closer against him. It was cute. How Shoma flushed and giggled.

Shoma twisted his body to face Yuzuru as fully as he could without getting up on his knees. Still giggling in little-hiccupped bursts, Shoma put a hand on Yuzuru’s shoulder and brought their lips together. Yuzuru met him there, letting his eyes close for several short, gentle kisses. Yuzuru could feel the way Shoma’s lips lingered a little more each time their lips brushed. He could tell by the quiver in Shoma’s breath, he was already lost. Yuzuru teased at Shoma’s bottom lip, tugged on it with his teeth. A distraction as he snuck his hand into the popcorn bag in Shoma’s lap.

When Shoma parted his lips and tried to draw Yuzuru closer, he stealthily moved his hand between them and popped a kernel into Shoma’s mouth.

Yuzuru laughed at the soft, surprised sound Shoma made and the little scowl he got as Shoma sat back and chewed.

For his laughter, Shoma threw a piece of popcorn at him. Yuzuru huffed as it bounced off his cheek.

“If you get food all over the bed, this one is yours.”

Shoma stuck out his tongue childishly and threw another popcorn. With some effort and quick reflexes, Yuzuru caught it in his mouth.

They settled back down, watched the movie. Yuzuru liked how clear everything seemed. It was a date. Yuzuru didn’t question whether or not Shoma considered it as such. It was obvious in the way he snuggled up against Yuzuru’s side, how he slid a hand over Yuzuru’s and smiled when Yuzuru laced their fingers together. It was clear in how Shoma would periodically feed Yuzuru bits of popcorn until they both lost interest in the snack and put the bag on the bedside table with their empty drink cups. It was a good feeling, to have confidence that they were both there for the same reason. On the same page.

It was one of those times Yuzuru just felt like any twenty-two year old, sitting on a bed with the person he was dating. Hanging out. Everything was simple. They watched the movie, they talked, Shoma would laugh at something Yuzuru said and rub his thumb over Yuzuru’s knuckles. As time went on, Shoma grew quieter, slumped down a bit more, cuddled a bit closer. His hand went soft against Yuzuru’s, his eyes slid shut.

With another precise stretch of his leg and blind tap with his foot, Yuzuru stopped the movie in it’s last few minutes, careful not to disturb Shoma too much.

Yuzuru looked down at where Shoma was pillowed on his chest and smiled. Shoma’s eyes were closed, face lax, breathing slow and soft. Careful not to disturb him, Yuzuru reached forwards to close the laptop before settling back. Shoma groaned at the movement and nuzzled closer into Yuzuru’s t-shirt.

Yuzuru took a moment just to look at the way Shoma’s lashes fanned out against his cheek, the slight parting of his perpetually dry lips, the soft waves of hair against his forehead. He looked sweeter asleep like this. But they couldn’t stay like that forever. Yuzuru rubbed where his hand rested, curling at Shoma’s hip, to see if that would rouse him enough to get ready for bed. It didn’t.

“Shoma,” Yuzuru half-whispered, giving his hip another gentle shake. Shoma gave a sleepy little grunt but didn’t move. Yuzuru laughed under his breath and lifted his other hand to lightly rub at Shoma’s cheek, trying again. “Shoma, wake up.”

Shoma groaned in dissent and pressed himself closer, shaking his head slightly at Yuzuru’s gentle cajoling, getting out “not asleep,” in a barely coherent mumble.

Yuzuru watched fondly as Shoma’s eyes slowly opened, periodically sliding half shut before he managed to blearily open his eyes.

“You’re comfy,” Shoma mumbled, nuzzling into Yuzuru’s chest. Yuzuru bit his lip as if trying to hold back his smile. He squeezed Shoma’s hip to stop his eyes from sliding shut again. Shoma met his gaze with dozy, unfocused eyes. “What?”

“Nothing.” Yuzuru brought his hand up to Shoma’s head, toying with his hair. He stroked through the waves, twirled a few strands between his fingers. “You’re just really cute.”

Shoma blinked slowly and gave a dopey looking smile.

“I’ll go change and then we can sleep, okay?”

Shoma made a soft sound of dissent and wiggled his head against Yuzuru’s chest. “Can we stay like this a little longer?”

“Sure.”

There were few things in the world that created a feeling of warmth and happiness as pure as cuddling did. Yuzuru let out a long, contented sigh. He felt the way Shoma fit against him, the pleasant weight of the sleepy body against his own. Yuzuru stroked his fingers through Shoma’s hair, looking down to see Shoma’s eyes had closed again. Yuzuru let his hand come away from Shoma’s curls to stroke at his cheek, just enough to coax his eyes back open. Shoma looked up at him blearily, and Yuzuru was hit with a wave of affection so strong it almost took his breath away.

They stayed like that for a while. Warm and cosy. Every time Shoma’s eyes drifted closed, Yuzuru lightly jiggled his cheek to rouse him. After a while, his fingertips drifted. Brushing away Shoma’s bangs. Smoothing over his eyebrows, index finger running down the bridge of Shoma’s nose. Over his cheeks. Across his jaw.

“I’ll fall asleep again if you keep doing that,” Shoma mumbled, sounding very much half way there.

“I’ll change in the bathroom so you can just change here and sleep straight away.”

Shoma grunted. “I should brush my teeth…”

Yuzuru chuckled. “Then you can use the bathroom first.”

“I don’t want to move,” Shoma whined, nuzzling even further into Yuzuru’s chest. If that was even possible. “This is really nice.”

“We can cuddle after. I promise.”

“Okay.” Shoma hauled himself up with great effort and dragged his feet to his suitcase.

It was normal for them to change separately at night. They hadn't discussed it but fallen into the pattern naturally. It was logical, to change in the bathroom as they washed up and got ready to sleep. A polite little respect for each other’s privacy.

By the time Yuzuru was done changing and washing up, Shoma had already crawled onto a bed and turned off almost all the lights, leaving just one bedside lamp, so Yuzuru wasn’t stumbling completely blind around the room.

Shoma was already curled up on his side, on the same bed they had been loitering on all evening even though his stuff was on the other one. Yuzuru knew he wouldn’t have the heart to force Shoma to, at least, clear his own stuff away. But it’s not like it mattered. He had, at least, moved the laptop somewhere safe.

The lamp cast a warm glow on the curve of Shoma’s back. He wasn’t asleep yet, just lay there, waiting for Yuzuru to be ready and say goodnight. Maybe. Or waiting for Yuzuru to join him.

Yuzuru hesitated for a moment before he crawled onto the bed. Even though they had been wrapped up in each other on the bed all night, there was something more intimate about lying down and embracing until Shoma fell asleep. It was something Yuzuru wanted, something he proposed because it felt like a right and natural thing for them to do. Really, it wasn’t much of a step forward. It wasn't anything. It was just hugging. They did that all the time. They’d just done it for over two hours.

It was just an odd feeling that somehow felt inappropriate because of the conversation that had happened with Javier a few hours ago. He shook the thought away as he flopped down behind Shoma. He notched himself against Shoma’s body, bracketing him. Yuzuru slid his arms around Shoma’s ribs, neck bowing to temporarily rest his chin on Shoma’s shoulder.

“Are you still awake?”

“Yeah.”

Yuzuru smiled and gave him a squeeze. “I promised we would cuddle.”

Shoma laughed and shifted, his body more comfortably flush against Yuzuru’s. Back against chest. Yuzuru’s knees tucked behind Shoma’s. Yuzuru nosed into the back of Shoma’s hair for a moment before they adjusted, slotting together more comfortably. Yuzuru took a deep breath, a heavy feeling of warmth and comfort settling over him. It was nice to feel the solidness of Shoma in his arms, next to his body.

Yuzuru’s hand absently stroked Shoma’s belly. Just a light touch. Shoma twitched.

“Ngh...Tickles.”

“You like it more if I’m a bit harder, right?” Yuzuru whispered into Shoma’s ear, chuckling. He added just a little pressure, so the motion of his hand was more a soothing rub than a ticklish stroke. Something about the darkness in the room, the time, the situation, made it seem inappropriate to speak any louder.

He felt Shoma shiver and subtly pressed himself back into Yuzuru’s body.

“Yeah,” Shoma said with some struggle. “That’s...better.”

Yuzuru hummed content, relaxing against Shoma’s back. He closed his eyes, his focus shrinking down to just the heat of Shoma against him, the sound of his breaths, the steady thumping of his own heart. His thumb absently stroked circles against Shoma’s belly just below his navel, mindful enough to keep the stroke firm.

It was nice, calming, to hold Shoma close. It was like slipping in a hot bath. Or sitting in a sunny park on a good day. Yuzuru didn’t have to think about anything, worry about anything. It was pure contentment. Yuzuru nudged his face at Shoma’s neck. He liked the clean smell of his skin and t-shirt. He felt Shoma’s Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, as he rolled his thumb in slow, deliberate circles against Shoma’s belly.

From the light of the lamp, Yuzuru could see the hint of colour developing low on Shoma’s cheek, down to his jaw. Sometimes when he blushed, his entire face turned red, but often it was there where it developed. Below the cheekbone. A dark, dusky colour. Yuzuru liked it; he found is slightly embarrassing that whenever heat rose in his face - from bashfulness or exertion - it was a light pink high on his cheeks and at the tip of his nose. It reminded him of how his sister did her make up. When Yuzuru blushed, it was cutesy, pretty. Yuzuru found something handsome about the way colour rose in Shoma’s face.

Yuzuru pressed his lips against Shoma’s jaw, peppering the blushed skin with several light, sweet kisses before settling back to watch the colour grow darker. He smiled against the back of Shoma’s neck, equal parts amused and charmed, and pressed the barest whisper of a kiss there too.

Yuzuru felt Shoma start to turn and gave him room to roll over, so they lay face to face. He couldn’t help but curiously quirk a brow at Shoma’s expression - flushed, flustered, a lot more alert than he had expected.

Shoma’s eyes glinted with an edge of mischief. His lips pulled into a small coquettish smile.

“You’re making me...not sleepy.” Shoma murmured, still holding on to that tired drawl, but not on the edge of falling asleep anymore.

Yuzuru giggled, ducking his head to bury against Shoma’s shoulder. “Sorry.”

That hadn’t been Yuzuru’s intention. But. It wasn’t exactly unpleasant to hear that he could have that kind of effect. Particularly when he wasn’t really trying. Yuzuru was practically preening as he lifted his head back up to peck the tip of Shoma’s nose, smiling at the way Shoma wrinkled it. His ego just a little bit plumped. Just a bit proud of himself.

How they had been lying together before was nice, but this was good too. Now Yuzuru could see Shoma’s face; the cute subtle squish of his cheek against the pillow, the fluff of his hair flopping to the side, the sleepy look in his eyes. It reminded Yuzuru of something.

Yuzuru’s hand settled on Shoma’s waist. Their knees bumped together as Shoma rubbed at Yuzuru’s neck, toying with the hair behind his ear. Yuzuru tilted his head to allow Shoma access.  
“Hey, remember a few months ago?”

Shoma looked puzzled. “No?”

Yuzuru snorted. He needed to give some kind of specifics.

“You skyped me from...somewhere. You were almost falling asleep.” He smiled, running a thumb over the curve of Shoma’s jaw where the skin was still dusky pink. Shoma’s eyes seemed to snap into focus for a moment, but the soft, vulnerable look didn’t leave him. It made Yuzuru want to treat him gently, made him itch to touch affectionately. Shoma softened again, eyelids drooping but still awake. Still listening. “I put my laptop on my bed, so it was like I was lying down with you.”

“Oh,” Shoma breathed out. “I do remember that.”

“I wanted this.” Yuzuru let his eyelids fall to half-mast, focus dropping to Shoma’s mouth without meaning to. It was an odd thing to admit, but Yuzuru figured Shoma could benefit from hearing it. That Yuzuru had been interested in him before discovering Shoma’s feelings. Attracted to him. Thinking about more than friendship. “I really wanted to be there with you. Lay with you.”

Shoma’s tongue darted out over his lip, fingers still slowly massaging at Yuzuru’s neck. Yuzuru felt the way their bodies touched from chest to belly vividly.  
“Like this?”

“Yeah,” Yuzuru said, barely a whisper. He lifted his gaze back up to Shoma’s eyes, feeling the urge to tease. Just lighten the mood a bit. “But. You weren’t wearing a t-shirt then.”

“I wasn’t?” Shoma croaked. Yuzuru couldn’t blame him for forgetting. He had been half asleep at the time.

Yuzuru laughed, heat rising in his cheeks as he remembered just what his response to Shoma’s shirtlessness had been. “I kept getting distracted by your shoulders.”

“Do-Do you want...?” Shoma stuttered, brows furrowing adorably. “I can-”

Shoma cut himself off and sat up, just long enough to pull his t-shirt up over his head. He tossed it onto the floor and fell back to Yuzuru’s side, bare.

Yuzuru’s mouth hung open. He hadn’t anticipated that Shoma would actually strip.

Shoma blushed. ”I don’t usually sleep with a shirt anyway. Too hot."

“Oh.” Yuzuru’s eyes flitted down, away from Shoma’s face. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “It’s okay? If I touch?”

Yuzuru looked back up to see Shoma nod his head, and let his gaze fall again. It was hard not to look.

He’d seen Shoma before. Changing in locker rooms, at competitions. But he hadn’t really looked. Not like this. What was in front of him might not have been anything new, but the context was. Now he had permission to let his eyes sweep down, and for hands to follow.

He knew the implications of touching bare skin. But it was okay. Shoma was comfortable. Shoma offered it to him. It didn’t have to lead anywhere else. It didn’t have to be a big deal. They were having some fun. They were merely adjusting their boundaries a little. That was all.

Yuzuru could look for the enjoyment of looking. Touch, for the pleasure of touching. Enjoy the fun of stepping even a fraction out of their previous comfort zone, get to see how Shoma responded, maybe learn some things about his body along the way. It didn’t have to lead anywhere further. They could just explore each other a little bit before their date drew to a close.

There was a curiosity to how Yuzuru grazed his fingers over Shoma’s skin, following the curve of bone and muscle he had admired so much before. Yuzuru liked the contrast between his hand and the slightly darker shade of Shoma’s shoulder, the length of his neck, his clavicle.

Almost dreamily, Yuzuru let his finger-tips wander down to Shoma’s chest, only remembering his sensitivity and preference for firmer touch when Shoma shivered against him. Yuzuru smiled, feeling the softness and warmth of skin and the hint of hard muscle that lay beneath.

Shoma’s body was not wildly dissimilar to Yuzuru’s own. A body that was shaped by the sport. To maintain good carriage on the ice, a straight axis in the air, strong back muscles were needed. When you strengthened you back, your chest tended to get a work-out too, and so, Shoma’s chest was firm to the touch. Not overly muscular, but defined.

Shoma sucked in a breath as Yuzuru touched him there, gave a sharp gasp when his thumb swiped a little too close to a nipple. It was interesting, to see just how sensitive Shoma was. A thrill, for Yuzuru, to see just what even the simplest of actions could elicit.

So much of what they did from day to day required a strong core, Yuzuru mused as his hand dropped lower. That translated to Shoma’s stomach being hard, tight. Yuzuru hummed as he spread his hand over Shoma’s abs. There was a slight softness there, a layer of body fat over muscle that Yuzuru found appealing. He felt the muscles twitch beneath his hand and he retraced the circle he had been making earlier. Just below the nub of Shoma’s belly-button. He felt the hint of hair, the beginnings of a path that led lower. Yuzuru smoothed them down with his thumb, stopping before he hit the waistline of the sweatpants Shoma had slung on for bed and then rubbed up against the grain of hair. Shoma’s breath caught in his throat.

Yuzuru let his hand wander back up to more neutral ground. He followed the line of Shoma’s waist. Not as narrow as Yuzuru’s. Stronger. Sturdier. Ran the tip of his index finger up Shoma’s arm, feeling the curve of a bicep. Not big, but developed. Too much muscle was too much weight, which could make it more difficult to get into the air, but you needed some strength. Balance was a good thing. Shoma seemed to carry muscle a bit bulkier than Yuzuru did. Maybe it was his stature or because of his diet. Yuzuru didn’t care much for the reason, but he enjoyed the result.

Yuzuru slotted his hand at the juncture of neck and shoulder, forcing his eyes up to Shoma’s flushed face.

Shoma swallowed hard, voice coming out breathy and quiet. “Take yours off too?”

Yuzuru laughed, amused, and sat up. It felt a bit strange, to grab his loose t-shirt from the bottom and pull it over his head. He hesitated for a split second. Maybe he should stop, go back, reverse. But Shoma was just asking for reciprocation, not to race forward into some area Yuzuru hadn’t established was allowed. It was okay. To do this with Shoma. To get a little closer. Be a bit less chaste. It was something that was beneficial to build between them, even if they did it slowly.

Yuzuru folded the t-shirt messily out of habit before throwing it onto the other bed. When he looked back at Shoma, he was doing what Yuzuru had done with his fingers, but with his eyes. Shoma’s gaze swept over the slope of his shoulders, the rise of his chest, the hardness of his stomach and the curve of his waist. Yuzuru sniggered softly to himself at the way Shoma bit down on his bottom lip, the way his hand flexed against the bed.

“You shouldn’t bite your lips so much,” Yuzuru teased, bringing himself back down beside Shoma, leaning over him, above him, to swipe his thumb across the abused lip. “That’s why they’re always cracked.”

Shoma looked up with a coy smile. “Shut up.”

Shoma pushed Yuzuru back, guiding him, so he was lying on his back. Yuzuru followed his lead, wrapping an arm around Shoma’s waist and pulling him into his side. Shoma settled his hand low on Yuzuru’s hip, chest pressing against Yuzuru’s ribs. Yuzuru instinctively sucked in a breath as Shoma’s hand crept across his belly.

Shoma looked up at him, wide-eyed and a little nervous. “Is this okay?”

Yuzuru nodded, eyes sliding shut as Shoma’s hand moved. A slow crawl towards the opposite hip, then up, following the dip of his waist. “It’s good.”

It was soothing, the gradual ascent Shoma took. Copying how Yuzuru had touched him, but in a far more erratic path - from hip to waist, to stomach, to chest. Fingers wandering up, then down again, slow and meandering. Feather-light, barely there.

“I thought you’d touch harder,” Yuzuru said, amused.

“Do you want me too?” Yuzuru cracked an eye open and tilted his head, considering. Shoma’s caresses range from soft to the faintest hint of a touch. The kind of pressure that had Yuzuru on the edge of shuddering or arching up for more. Yuzuru liked to be teased, at first, until he felt desperate and aching. He preferred to be held in a firmer grasp later. Held down. Held close. Held in place.

Yuzuru shook his head, let his eyes fall closed. For now, the tease was enough.

“People touch others the way they like to be touched. Before they learn if anything else works better.” Shoma walked his fingers back down from Yuzuru’s sternum to his navel, his voice a low murmur. “You always start off so light before you remember it tickles. I figured that’s how you like it.”

Yuzuru laughed low in his throat, “You’re smart.”

He stuttered on an exhale as Shoma gave the skin beside his hip the lightest scrape with his thumbnail. Almost a step too far. Almost too much. Yuzuru had found the line.

Yuzuru covered Shoma’s hand with his hand, guiding Shoma back up his body, Shoma took the hint, pressing his hand over Yuzuru’s heart, languidly drawing patterns into the skin, tracing beneath his collarbones.

Shoma was often guarded and shy, it was nice to have him with no defences. No overthinking the situation or trying to anticipate what Yuzuru was going to say. Just there in the moment. There was no nervous tension in Shoma’s body, no discomfort or unease that Yuzuru could feel under his hand when he smoothed his hand over creamy skin. Shoma was loose, warm, draped over Yuzuru almost casually. It was a privilege to have Shoma close, so relaxed and so much more affectionate than just a month or two ago.

Shoma nuzzled at Yuzuru’s neck, breath coming out in warm puffs against his skin, his body pressing closer. Yuzuru swore he could feel the rapid beat of Shoma’s heart against him as his hand closed around Yuzuru’s shoulder. Shoma’s lips grazed at his jaw.

Yuzuru swallowed, starting to feel a bit jittery. “Are you cold?”

He tugged the comforter over Shoma’s shoulders before he could respond, not sure how to wind the situation down before it went too far.

Shoma wiggled under the covers playfully, body pressed ever closer to Yuzuru’s. His eyes lifted, dark and heavy-lidded. He craned up to press a kiss to Yuzuru’s mouth.

Yuzuru leant down to meet him, indulging in several small pecks that became gradually slower, softer. When Shoma tried to linger, Yuzuru retreated. When Shoma applied more pressure, Yuzuru gentled even further, until their lips scarcely brushed.

“Goodnight, Shoma,” Yuzuru whispered, rubbing the tip of his nose against Shoma’s.

Shoma’s eyes squeezed shut, head dropping onto the pillow wedged under Yuzuru’s shoulder. Yuzuru felt the insistent press of Shoma’s body subside, but he didn’t withdraw completely. Shoma’s fingers still doodled little figures of eight against his chest, hair still ticking beneath Yuzuru’s jaw. He whispered back, “Goodnight,” and managed a tight, tired smile.

Yuzuru let his eyes close. He felt Shoma’s hand slow, and then still entirely against his chest, felt the body against his soften, listened to how Shoma’s breathing evened out. Yuzuru could have stayed there all night, slept beside Shoma and kissed him in the morning. But even with their little step forward, it seemed a bit too intimate to do without Shoma’s explicit permission.  
Carefully, Yuzuru disentangled himself from Shoma. He smiled at the tiny, kittenish groan Shoma made as he burrowed into the warm space Yuzuru had previously occupied. A kiss was pressed to Shoma’s temple before Yuzuru travelled to the other bed, still covered in the jacket and backpack Shoma had dumped there earlier. Yuzuru cleared it as quietly as possible and switched off the lamp.

There was a twinge of regret as Yuzuru slipped between the sheets of the empty bed. He was distinctly less happy than he was with Shoma snuggled up to him.

It was cold.

 

***

  
After a short break between cities, it was good to be in the practice space with everyone again. It was fun to learn the group choreography together, go through the new opening number, laugh at Johnny and Stephane occasionally goofing off to one side or Nobu getting a bit too enthusiastic. Yuzuru had really missed so much about doing shows when he had been injured the previous year. He was grateful that he didn’t have to pull out again. Brian encouraged them to have fun through the opening, Yuzuru was going to go all out. Make the most out of the time they had on tour before it was over. Give back to the crowd that cheered for them.

Brian had decided the opening number needed to have a light, flirty kind of feeling and Yuzuru attacked that kind of theme with zeal. He found himself looking over at Javier as he jokingly swayed his hips and ran his hands up his torso per Brian’s instructions. It was instinctive to turn to Javier when he was being silly. His usual partner in crime. He had forgotten, for a stupid moment, that Javier might not exactly be in the mood to laugh at him dancing too exaggerated and making a funny face.  
From the side, Johnny wolf-whistled. Yuzuru could hear Shoma laughing. But it was the flicker of amusement across Javier’s face that made him feel a sense of achievement.

Brian observed this. And encouraged more.

He had come to Kobe to help with choreography. He had, apparently, also decided it was his job to push Yuzuru and Javier together. Subtly, but not nearly as subtly as he thought.  
Little things. Like manipulating the two of them to pose in the centre at the end of the opening number, standing back to back, leaning on each other. Little things like calling them over to talk to them together instead of giving them instructions individually.  
Yuzuru could feel Brian quietly watching them through warm-up, the rehearsal, in the breaks when Yuzuru would sit and laugh at Nobu dancing, having the time of his life, while the band played.

“You need to loosen up around each other. Have a little fun together.” Brian urged, leaning in, dropping his voice. “Stop hiding out at opposite ends of the rink and remember why you like each other so much.”

It would be a process. They knew that. But the little things that chipped away at the awkwardness between them were steps in the right direction. Yuzuru might not have wanted to hurt Javier, but he had. That would need time to heal. Some things couldn’t be rushed.  
Performing helped. The crowd clapping on the beat and the thrill of moving with live music. Akiko smiled at Yuzuru he glided past her.  
Yuzuru felt Javier’s laugh as much as he heard it when they met for their final pose and he lifted his fingers in a sharp motion. ‘ _Pow_ ’.  
It was something.

There wasn’t a lot of time in the week for much to really change, but the tension seemed to lift anyway. Yuzuru wasn’t afraid to approach Javier, and Javier seemed a little more receptive to Yuzuru’s clumsy efforts to be normal. Friendly. He smiled fondly when Yuzuru had Pooh greet him in the early practice with a boop on the cheek. Whenever Javier left his water bottle somewhere random beside the ice, Yuzuru moved it back to where it belonged - next to Yuzuru’s. That was a habit. Javier had a brain like a sieve and would always put his bottle down, instantly forget where he left it and go to where he expected to to be only to look at the empty spot in confusion. Yuzuru was so used to moving Javier’s bottle it was practically a reflex by now. It was small details like that which made Yuzuru feel somewhat normal again. Like they would be okay.  
When Yuzuru fell in practice, Javier came to wordlessly help him up. He didn’t need to say anything, just that he was there to hold out his hand said more than words ever could.  
  


***  
  


It was at lunch that Javier actually spoke to Yuzuru, suggesting that maybe, just maybe, Yuzuru might actually want to eat something a bit more substantial before performing than soup and salad.

“I have rice.” “Yuzuru pouted childishly. “Soup has meat in it.”

“Are you going to have a proper meal before you sleep?” Javier asked, poking just under Yuzuru’s rib, knowing damn well Yuzuru didn’t like to eat too late.

“Does candy count?”

Javier snorted and shook his head. “I’m gonna tell your mom.”

Yuzuru blinked at him. “I will add egg.”

“Two eggs.”

Yuzuru nodded. “Deal.”

“And you should have at least a small meal after the show,” Javier said, prodding at Yuzuru’s waist again. “Not candy.”

Yuzuru rolled his eyes and huffed in mock annoyance at Javier fussing over him like a kid. “Yes, daddy.”

Behind them, Johnny choked. Stephane patted his back, biting his lip to hold back his own laughter. Yuzuru turned to them, confused.

"What's funny?"

"Johnny, don't tell him," Javier rushed.

"Yes daddy," Johnny said with a little smile before promptly bursting into a fit of giggles.

Yuzuru turned to Javier. "What does it mean? I thought it just mean _otosan_?"

Javier shook his head, looking as if he might start laughing too. "Don't worry about it."

"Is it sex thing?" Yuzuru hissed, totally mortified.

Javier didn't answer and just turned away with a weird embarrassed noise. Johnny was shaking with silent laughter, head on the table to hide how red his face was. Stephane softly chided him for being mean.

Yuzuru took a deep breath and dumped the eggs into his rice bowl.

At least he and Javier were talking.

***

Yuzuru had noticed a pattern. It was something he had started to spot in Makuhari, but he was sure of it now. For the past few nights, Yuzuru had seen the same scene play out at least once in the day. At some point - whether it be at break time in practice, or in the skaters’ lounge during the show, or after the show before everyone headed back to the hotel - Shoma would see an opportunity to approach Javier alone and go for it. Yuzuru stood at the doorway of the lounge, just out of view, and watched at Shoma shyly shuffled towards Javier and held out his bag of corn snacks. Yesterday it had been peanuts.

“Ebi chip. You want?” Shoma asked in bad English, wiggling the bag for emphasis.

Javier hesitated and held out a cupped hand for Shoma to shake some snacks into. “Thank you.”

“Skate good,” Shoma said, trying very hard. “Very cool.”

Javier smiled at the compliment. “I’m glad you liked it.”

Shoma smiled and bobbed his head. “Javi is very cool. Um.”  
He fumbled and shook more chips into Javier’s hand before giving up and drifting away before Javier could say anything else. Javier looked very perplexed and ate the snacks.

Yuzuru tilted his head in curiosity and continued to the changing room to grab his performance outfit.

Yuzuru would consider Shoma and Javier to be friendly but usually needed to be facilitated by a third person. Javier had some Japanese and a talent for communicating through gestures and simple language - hell, that was how they had initially bonded - but Shoma’s lack of English exacerbated his shyness. His liking of Javier was mostly theoretical based on observation, and Javier’s opinion of Shoma was mostly based on scraps and interactions they had within a group. They couldn’t really communicate one-to-one enough to form much of a relationship.

It was a bit odd that Shoma was the one approaching Javier to try, even if what Yuzuru had observed so far was limited to Shoma teaching Javier the name of whatever food was on offer and some simple, awkward compliments.

Shoma did it again after the show had ended before they left to go back to the hotel. Shoma shuffled over to Javier, handed him a kit-kat, said goodnight, and shuffled away again. Yuzuru slid himself over to where Shoma had returned to finish packing his bag, leaning in close to speak quietly.

“Why is Javi getting first dibs on your snacks?” Yuzuru pouted, putting a childish sulk into his voice. “I thought I was your favourite.”

He got the response he wanted when Shoma turned to him with an amused smile and a short laugh.

“You are.” He shrugged. “He seems kinda sad? I figure maybe he’s bummed about last season.”

Yuzuru laughed, instinctively leaning forwards and cupping Shoma’s face, giving his cheeks a little squish. “You’re adorable.”

Shoma wrinkled his nose and pulled his face out of Yuzuru’s hands. “My English is bad, and his Japanese is shitty. I don’t know what else to do. So I keep just telling him he’s cool and giving him food.”

Yuzuru poked at his cheek again. “Cute.”

Shoma smiled, some shyness creeping in as he returned his attention to his bag. He bit his lip, hesitating for a moment before he spoke again. “You seem kinda weird with each other. Did you have a fight?”

“Kind of.” Yuzuru grimaced. Jeffery and Brain noticing was one thing - they were around Yuzuru and Javier on a regular basis and had known the regular rhythm of their relationship well enough to note when they were off beat. But Shoma noticing meant probably everyone had noticed. That wasn’t something Yuzuru wanted. Javier’s low point was private. The mess of backed-up emotional baggage causing the period of friction between the two of them was private. Yuzuru didn’t want anyone, even colleagues and friends, to be speculating about it for even the briefest moment.

Yuzuru didn’t think Shoma needed to know the depth of Javier’s dour mood, but it seemed fair enough to share how he was a factor in it. “He...he was a bit hurt when I told him about...us.”

“Oh.” Shoma’s face changed. Not exactly falling to some kind of sad, stricken expression. It was more like a wall going up behind his eyes, his expression becoming empty and distant. This was how Shoma dealt with negative feelings. He pulled back, closed up, saved it until he was alone and could let it all out without involving anyone else. Shoma blinked slowly. “I should leave him alone then.”

“He’s not upset with you,” Yuzuru assured softly. “I don’t think he is, anyway.”

“He’s been quieter than usual.” A flicker of sadness crossed Shoma’s face, his shoulders slumped. “I thought he was like that with everyone.”

“He is.” Yuzuru rubbed Shoma’s back, trying to soothe him. It was hard for Shoma to reach out to people. It probably really wounded him to think that his attempts to be friendly and caring, even if they weren’t amazingly conceived, could be hurting rather than helping. Yuzuru wasn’t sure what to tell him. To keep trying? Or to stop and wait for Javier to get back to a mental place where he’d be more receptive to Shoma’s friendly gestures? The only way to know what would be better was to ask Javier.  
Yuzuru squeezed Shoma’s shoulder.  
“I’ll talk to him.”

***

Yuzuru watched as Shoma silently handed Javier a Starbucks cup the next morning; two-handed and with the slightest bow of his head. Today’s treat delivered, Shoma scuttled away to put his boots on beside Marin and Anna. Javier stared at the cup, and then Shoma with some unreadable expression.  
Yuzuru casually walked towards him, taking the spot beside him and putting his boot bag down on the bench. He leaned in as if he were going to tell Javier a secret.

“Shoma’s trying to cheer you up.”

“I’ve noticed,” Javier said dryly, looking at the cup. “Well, either that or he’s trying to fatten me up to sabotage the competition before Olympics.”

Yuzuru chuckled. “That would be cunning.”

Javier laughed breathily and took a sip of the drink. He looked at Yuzuru with narrowed eyes.  
“You told him what I like.”

“He was going to give you something anyway, it’s better something you like.” Yuzuru shrugged. “If he didn’t get you coffee it would be an oatmeal cookie and a chocolate bar. I think the coffee is better.”

Javier hummed and lifted the cup to his lips again. Considering.  
“Is he doing it out of pity?”

Yuzuru softened, his voice dropping to little more than a whisper.  
“No. He just...hates seeing you sad. Everyone does.”

Javier lowered the cup, His eyes dropped towards the floor, but not quite. Focusing on some point in front of them. Maybe the wall.

Yuzuru bit his lip anxiously. “Is it bothering you? I can tell him to stop...”

“It’s fine. He’s sweet.” Javier said with a shake of his head. “It’s nice that he’s trying. He doesn’t have to.”

Javier paused to drink a bit more of his coffee. His eyes slid shut.  
“It’s hard. Being around you together. But I guess I just have to get used to it.”

“I’m trying,” Yuzuru stuttered. He felt like the air had been kicked out of him. “T-to not…”

“You’ve not been rubbing it in my face or anything,” Javier said hurriedly. “It’s just enough to know.”

Yuzuru understood. He remembered that feeling. The first time he had done ice shows with Javier and Miki after finding out they were dating, the heartbreak not fresh but still tender. Javier hadn’t flaunted his relationship with Miki, hadn’t paraded it around, but being in the same room as them felt like all the air was being sucked out the building. It was a constant, cold slap of reality every time Yuzuru had seen them stood close, talking, sitting together. Javier was with her, not him. It was over. It hadn’t gotten easier as days went on, it hurt every time Yuzuru saw them stood together exactly the same at the end of the tour as it had at the start.

It didn’t matter much that Yuzuru wasn’t draped all over Shoma throughout the day, holding hands backstage and cuddling in the lounge. They didn’t need to be obnoxious to be reminding Javier every day that Yuzuru was with Shoma, and not with him. Yuzuru felt a twinge of guilt.

“I’ll be fine. It’s more awkward than anything.” Javier put the cup down on the empty bit of bench beside him and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He turned his head towards Yuzuru to give a shaky, uneasy kind of smile. “Anyway. It’s better if we get along, right? I can’t avoid either of you.”

Yuzuru’s back stiffened. “Do you want to avoid me?”

“No.” Javier shook his head. “I don’t want to avoid him either. But. You know I’ve not been feeling right.”

There’s a little twist in Yuzuru’s gut. It was awful, to know that Javier was going about each day trying to just be his regular self, but something fundamental was off and throwing everything off-axis. He had been here before. It would pass. Yuzuru could only hope it would pass quickly.  
It should. Javier had gotten better. He never shared this kind of thing with Yuzuru before, but he had seen it. His low points had gotten further apart over the years, and he recovered faster than before. Yuzuru hoped this was just another dip and not a crash.

“Do you need a hug?”

Javier nodded slowly. Yuzuru automatically shifted closer, pulling Javier to sit up straighter and drawing him into his arms. Javier relaxed into him. Yuzuru patted his back.

Javier hadn’t shaved for a few days. Yuzuru could feel the prickle of an emerging beard against his cheek and unconsciously rubbed his face against it ever so slightly before they withdrew from each other. It was just a short hug, a quick, friendly embrace to deliver the only thing Yuzuru could really offer - some support. Just being there.

“You talk to Brian about vacation?” Yuzuru asked, reaching to pull his boots out of his bag.

“Yeah.” Javier nodded, taking the coffee cup back into his hands to warm them. “He knows I need it.”

Yuzuru hummed. “You need time with sun and beach and sea.”

There’s comfort in the things associated with home. For Yuzuru that was big trees and quiet parks. The peaceful spaces of shrines and the sound of the wind rustling through leaves. For Javier, it was bathing in the sun, golden beaches and busy summer streets. It could be easier for Yuzuru to find home comforts. He lived with his mom - who cooked the same food he’d been eating since he was a child and used the same soap, so everything in Toronto smelled and tasted the same as on Sendai. Javier didn’t have that. He had friends, dinner parties and his cat but while those things could be enough to keep him comfortable, it didn’t feed his soul the way home could.

“Exactly.” Javier smiled. It was small, but it was the first genuine smile Yuzuru had seen in days. “I’ll be okay. You can stop walking on eggs around me.”

Yuzuru tilted his head and frowned. “I don’t know what that means.”

“I think I said it wrong anyway.” Javier shook his head. They both laughed, Yuzuru leaning to jostle Javier with his shoulder. With the mood lifted even by the tiniest degree, Yuzuru felt better. He tied his laces and left Javier to finish his coffee to start doing some warm-up laps around the ice. When Shoma caught his eye, he gave an assuring little nod.

After lunch, Shoma tentatively approached Javier again, but this time without food. Yuzuru might have let slip that there were things Javier liked better than various junky snacks.

“I have game,” Shoma said in choppy English. “Play together?”

Javier visibly softened and made room beside him where he was sat so Shoma could join him.  
“Sure.”

***

The tension that had been a quiet wedge between them through the previous week gradually deflated over the days spent in Kobe. They were talking again, left to enjoy the fun and thrill of performing to a crowd with the pressure of competition blissfully absent without the looming dread of some unconfronted conflict hanging over them. Because they had confronted it. It was not entirely resolved, but it was less oppressive.

Yuzuru let go and threw himself into the joyous freedom of skating on tour. He took joy in encouraging the crowd to cheer more, amping up their energy, absorbing it and giving back everything he had. Brian’s urgings to let loose, have fun, flirt with the crowd were echoed in Nobu’s gleeful claps after the show had ended and the whoops and whistles from Johnny and Stephane following the opening number.

It was the most fun Yuzuru had in a while. The excitement that had been building through competitions over the last season just kept of growing through each show. Perhaps it was a case of selective memory - there had been struggles and low points that had pock-marked every event last year, but even with them folded in the tightness of the competition was invigorating. To have his heroes pat him on the back and tell him with absolute certainty that he was the best of all of them was a high he was happy to indulge. Yuzuru watched Plushenko’s comedic routine every night and was as delighted to watch it the fifth, sixth time as he was the first. He watched Johnny’s dramatic, flamboyant performances with the same joy he always had, watched Stephane with reverence and Shoma and Javier with a rush of motivation.

It was like falling in love with the ice all over again. There was frustration at not landing every jump perfectly while he presented his short program for next season, but that was all part of the process. The rink was small, the crowd was too close to the edge of the ice and the lights a little too hot - it was never going to be perfect. But he still jumped and relished the brief moment of flight, went into a spin and enjoyed the speed of it, danced to the music with abandon and soaked up the power of being able to manipulate the crowd response.

“Between you, Plushenko and Stephane I think all the _obasan_ are going crazy,” Javier joked backstage after the final opening group number they would do in this city. Yuzuru laughed.

“You’re forgetting other sexy guy.”

Javier preened. “Ah, of course, me.”

“I was thinking Nobu.”

They entered the changing room, giggling. Yuzuru tugged at the little kitty-collar fabric around his neck, ready to get out of the clingy purple t-shirts the tour organisers had given them.

“You’re having a lot of fun, huh?”

“Yeah.” Yuzuru nodded, grinning. “Crowd yells so much if I lift my shirt. It’s so funny.”

Javier snorted. “If you keep it up you might send your old lady fans to hospital.”

“I’m just starting.”

Javier raised a brow at him. “Oh yeah?”

“Every show lift shirt a bit higher.”

“Ah, a really slow strip tease,” Javier teased. “Where will it end?”

Yuzuru smirked. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

They laughed, but it was cut short. As soon as the words left Yuzuru’s mouth, he felt an uncomfortable shift, like the floor had dropped from beneath his feet. He hadn’t meant for some playful ribbing after a performance to become flirtatious, but it had taken that turn, and they both seemed to realise it at the same point. The mood reverted back to an odd, stilted awkwardness.  
They changed in silence, facing away from each other.  
  


***

 

Before leaving Kobe, there was one place Yuzuru had to visit. Yuzuruha shrine was a fitting place to not just get a moment of peace and quiet reflection, but also to send out his wishes for the coming year, and give his thanks for the support he received every step he took. With some of his name shared with the shrine, it was a common place for fans and well-wishers to leave prayers for his health and success. Yuzuru had read a number of ema hanging close to the last one he had left there.

The last time he had gone there to leave his prayers, he had just wanted health. He had just wanted a season where he wasn’t skating through one problem after another. He had wanted a kind of retribution for the year before. In some ways, he had gotten it. In some ways, he had not.

This time he wished for health again. But he knew he couldn’t just rely on some god or spirit to give it to him. He would actually have to look after himself. Yuzuru smiled privately as he hung his ema. He had learned his lesson. He closed his eyes and listened to the chime of the prayer bell, the trickle of water close by, the distant sounds of the city.  
He had come a long way since the last time he visited the shrine. But he still had a long way to go.

Niigata would be the last run of shows. There was a distant kind of sadness in knowing that, but the determination to enjoy the final week was even stronger. Yuzuru was actually looking forward to going back to Toronto and starting his training. He would have a few weeks there before he would return to Japan for other engagements, and another few weeks before the season began. Knowing there was a fair amount of time to prepare himself made him feel...calm. He knew what he needed to do. He knew where he needed to get himself in time for the start of the season, and how to achieve it.

He had thought the same before heading to Sochi, but that had been different. He had been way behind on where he had wanted to be, where he thought he needed to be to win. There was a difference in focus now. He aimed for the Olympics, he aimed for the gold but more than that he aimed to just reach a new ideal. The goal was a bit more solid. Yuzuru just had to go one step further than his past self. He had done clean short programs before with two quads in the short, now he would do the same but with two jumps in the second half and using his loop. He had done it once already, he could do it in competition. He had done clean free programs, with three quads and with four. He had landed three quads in the second half. Now he just had to aim to combine those achievements, maybe add a fifth quad. Take what he knew he could do, take what he had achieved before, and go a step beyond. That’s why he chose to return to programs he had used before. He could take them, elevate them, go a step beyond. If he did that, he would win. And to achieve that, he would train hard, build his stamina, take care of his body, build more strength. He didn’t feel as frantic and desperate and anxious as he had four years ago.  
Surely that was a good thing.

Yuzuru rolled his neck as he sat on the hotel bed, sorting through his suitcase to take out the training gear he would warm up in the next morning. He wiggled his toes against the covers, warm and comfortable in his loose, thin t-shirt and old shorts that were way too gross to wear for any other purpose than the sleep in. One more week on tour, one more week with friends. One more week sharing a room with Shoma. Yuzuru wanted to make the most out of it. Somehow.

Shoma padded out of the bathroom, towel in hand rubbing his hair. Dressed in nothing more than a rather snug pair of boxers. Black. Thank God they were black. There had been that one time Shoma had done this in Kobe and appeared fresh from the shower in white underwear. Yuzuru had almost snapped his own neck from turning away so fast.  
Shoma’s skin was damp and flushed from his shower, a lonely bead of water making its way down his chest, then his belly. Yuzuru turned away to give him some privacy, cheeks pink.

Yuzuru wasn’t sure when Shoma decided he was comfortable enough to start walking around in his underwear, but it had happened anyway. Yuzuru still politely dressed in the bathroom, but at some point on tour Shoma apparently decided strolling out of the bathroom wet and partially naked was fine. Yuzuru didn’t mind. It was just a bit distracting. He couldn’t help but look before he forced himself to turn away out of a basic sense of decency.

Yuzuru didn’t always fully turn himself away but would try to busy himself with something else. He’d rub heat gel into his calves or rummage through his suitcase for the next day’s pair of socks. Anything to shift his focus away from where Shoma was in his periphery, bending down to sweep his towel over his legs. Shoma hadn’t noticed Yuzuru spending a little bit too much time looking at his body. Or it he had, he didn’t seem to mind. He hadn’t stopped or scuttled back into the bathroom to change away from where Yuzuru’s eyes idly ran up the curve of his thighs.  
It didn’t exactly make Yuzuru uncomfortable. Not in a bad way. And really Shoma wasn’t doing anything indecent. They changed in front of each other all the time. Just. Not in hotel rooms where it was just the two of them.

Rooming with Shoma had proven to be good. Yuzuru didn’t have to amp himself for Shoma in any way. There was no pressure to be constantly engaging or entertaining, no urge to fill every silence. He also didn’t feel the need to hold himself back in any way. There was an ebb and flow they could both follow - giving each other some space, some comfortable silence to recharge when they needed it to being close, talking, laughing, touching when they wanted to without being draining. They understood the occasional need to spend some time within their personal bubbles, but their bubbles seemed to overlap more and more. After cleaning up and changing clothes, they could settle in moments of comfortable quiet, sitting side by side, playing their own video games sprawled out beside each other.

Yuzuru had gotten so used to always having a persona within arms reach - still always very much himself, but polished up for the media, sweetened for fans; calculating when questions were asked and trying to anticipate the responses to his answers. Even amongst other skaters, he was wary of the image they perceived of him, and how to be himself while still meeting their expectations. He didn’t feel that way around Shoma. He hoped that went both ways, that Shoma was finding it easier to be unguarded around him.

Shoma’s only possible downside as a roommate was his tendency to not make the bed and just put things down anywhere and let clothes drop to the floor, letting them stay there for sometimes hours. Yuzuru managed to hold himself back but always broke before dinner time. He nipped around the room shifting a t-shirt to at least join the growing pile next to Shoma’s suitcase, arranging his earphones so the wires wouldn’t tangle and get damaged, putting empty drinks in the trash if they knew they were empty and had been sitting on the side for more than five minutes. While Shoma watched, abashed.

As far as bad habits went, being a little bit messy wasn’t so bad. Yuzuru had seen how Shoma typically kept his room without Yuzuru’s neat-freak intervention. He wasn’t disgusting or dirty. He just didn’t share Yuzuru’s borderline obsessive need to have everything in a specific place at all times.

It actually struck Yuzuru as a good thing. That Shoma’s tendency to be a little more cluttered came out. It showed he wasn’t still vigilantly trying to be ‘right’ for Yuzuru but just letting himself be. If he was still trying to present the best version of himself to impress him or whatever, he probably wouldn’t leave empty drinks on the side or pile his dirty clothes up next to his suitcase or never make his bed. It was kind of strangely endearing. Yuzuru maybe didn’t like the mess itself, as he needed some semblance of order for a good mental space, but he found the comfort it suggested rather cute.

‘ _How’s rooming with Shoma going?_ ’ Keiji had asked through a text message. Shoma had been sitting next to Yuzuru while he read the message. Yuzuru let him watch as he replied.

‘ _If I have to listen to that anime soundtrack one more time I’m going to throw his laptop out the window_.’

Keiji had responded with at least twenty laughing faces. Shoma hit him with a pillow.

“Does it really bother you?” Shoma asked after a short, spirited pillow fight.

Yuzuru laughed. “No. I would tell you if it did.”

Shoma smiled. “Good.”  
He hit play on his phone, the familiar tune coming out loud and a little bit tinny. Yuzuru laughed and hit him again with his pillow.  
  


***

  
Yuzuru threw himself into a spin in a corner of the ice. It would be his last one of this practice, time was nearly up. It was good to have some time before the show started to warm up but also have free practice, but the time they had wasn’t infinite. They had to get changed, and the ice needed resurfacing before the audience appeared.

Yuzuru held his breath as he reached back to grab his foot, letting it out slowly as he brought his leg up until he could see his foot above his upturned face. His leg was probably not making a perfect tear-drop shape, but close was okay.

“Does that ever hurt your back?” Shoma asked after watching Yuzuru exit his spin. Yuzuru was one of only a few men that could bring his foot over his head in an upright spin, though his Biellmann position was not as good as it used to be. He had to be a bit more careful with his transition out of it now. He used to just abruptly drop his foot, now he had to gently lower it.

“A bit.” Yuzuru gestured for Shoma to join him in languid stroking exercises around the rink to cool down. “I’m getting old.”

Shoma snorted. “Sure. I don’t think I can get my leg even close.”

Yuzuru smirked, pushing forward and lifting his free leg to an arabesque, as high as he could maintain while gliding on his inside edge. Tracy had got him to add that to his warm down routine, but he also wanted to show off a bit. His flexibility might not have been what it was a few years ago, but it was still pretty good. When he brought his leg back down, Shoma slipped past him, trying to grab his right blade to bring his leg up. Yuzuru laughed. It was a valiant effort, but Shoma looked like he was about to topple over.

“Be careful!” Nobu called out in passing. “Shoma, don’t break yourself before the show!”

Shoma let go of his foot and looked back at Yuzuru with a petulant little pout.

“Maybe a Biellmann isn’t for you,” Yuzuru told him. “You’ve got a great cantilever at least.”  
Indeed. It wasn’t like Shoma had no flexibility at all. Just not the same kind in the same areas as him.

Shoma grinned and raised his brow like he was daring Yuzuru to give it a go. Yuzuru accepted the challenge, picking up a bit of speed, leaving Shoma behind, and trying it. It was a messy effort, and he couldn’t hold it for very long. His thighs and back and abs screaming pretty much as soon as he got himself parallel to the ice, hand coming down to give himself some stability as he leaned back, his blades not quite gripping to the ice as securely as they maybe should. He pulled out of the position before he could slip and lose whatever balance he had.

Nobu whooped, Javier and a few that had left the ice applauded his effort. Yuzuru grinned at Shoma across the ice. Shoma rolled his eyes. Yuzuru drifted to the side to grab his water bottle. Javier handed it to him, shaking his head.

“Show off,” Javier tched. “Are you going to finish your cool down?”

Yuzuru took a swig of his water and nodded. “Yeah, just a bit longer.”

“I’ll see you in the lounge then.” Javier looked out towards the middle of the ice, Yuzuru followed his gaze to where Shoma had started a spin, clumsily hooking his finger through his blade and trying to pull his leg up. He barely just his foot up to his shoulder blades when he lost balance and went down, thankfully landing soundly on his butt. Defeated, he lay back on the ice, limbs sprawled out like a sad starfish. Javier snickered and grabbed his blade covers.  
“Have fun.”

The show went well. Yuzuru grinned when his back hit Javier’s, holding his arm out to the crowd, winking as he mimed shooting at a lady in the front row.

Every time he performed his short program, his confidence in his choice rose. Smooth as silk, light as air. He would need to change the costume. The gold accents at the sides had meant something to him at the time, but they interrupted the flow if the light material. He would get rid of them for the next design, take the costume in a slightly different direction for its next iteration, drawing on the previous versions to create a final one. The first had gotten to shape - billowing top, high neck, the blue graduating to white to look soft, floating. The version he had left from the second season using the music had the gold for added strength, filling in cracks where Yuzuru had been broken.  
Yuzuru wasn’t broken anymore, wasn’t healing anymore. He wanted to show that; create something whole, that would compliment the skating and the music, but also reflect his goals.

Some didn’t quite put so much thought into their costumes. Javier tended to pick plainer outfits so long as they somewhat matched the music. Shoma didn’t care so long as he could move in it and let the designer do whatever she wanted. Yuzuru was a bit more of a...control freak. He liked his costume to be part of the package he presented when he skated. Part of what he had held onto from when he was a child idolising Johnny, with his beautiful skating and striking costumes. Some people hated Yuzuru’s taste for Weir-esque outfits, but Yuzuru didn’t particularly care. He wanted to become something else when he skated, something more than himself, an entirely new character. Costumes facilitated that.

Yuzuru posed for photos in the hallway before the last skate of the show, beaming at the camera with the cat ears Marin had forced onto his head. They would go all out for the final week, the organisers had given them a bunch of props to delight the crowds with. Yuzuru spotted Nobu bouncing around with a strawberry hat framing his face, threw his head back and laughed.  
  
***

Shoma flopped belly-first onto his bed with a tired grunt. He had been pining for his bed after the show. While Yuzuru had been meticulously foam rolling so he wouldn’t be sore in the morning, he had been sitting with ice packs on his legs, waxing poetic about a long, hot shower and falling onto his mattress. It was better to do all of the post-performance cool down at the venue because by the time they got back to the hotel all anyone wanted to do was rest.

Yuzuru followed him, still feeling a lingering buzz of energy after the show. Maybe the nice thing to do would be to offer to give Shoma’s legs a rub-down if he was so tired. But Yuzuru didn’t have much talent for that, and he suspected Shoma was exaggerating his tiredness, so instead, he lay down on top of him. Shoma groaned in protest.

Yuzuru bowed his head so his mouth was directly against Shoma’s ear and whispered, teasing. “I thought you were going to take a shower?”

Shoma groaned again. Yuzuru laughed and moved so he was beside Shoma rather than squishing him. He propped himself up on one side, watching with an amused smile as Shoma rolled onto his back.

“That feels weird,” Shoma said, looking up at Yuzuru.

“What does?”

Shoma looked away shyly for just a second before speaking. “When you whisper in my ear and stuff.”

Yuzuru lowered himself, leaning close to Shoma’s ear, feeling playful.  
“Oh?” He whispered. “Good weird or bad weird?”

Shoma shivered. “Good weird.”

“Ah,” Yuzuru said, deliberately putting extra air into his voice. “I see.”

Yuzuru let his lips brush the shell of Shoma’s ear, let his breath tease the skin there. Shoma’s chest heaved. There wasn’t any particular reason that Yuzuru was teasing. There didn’t need to be. Yuzuru liked how there was more room for light-hearted flirting in their relationship. As they got closer, as they got more comfortable, it was easier to explore different ways they could relate to each other and enjoy each other. Shoma revealing something he liked was worth testing. It was exciting to see what the limits were, what the results could be. Yuzuru relaxed, letting his lips get pouty as they dragged against the delicate skin close to Shoma’s ear.

“Is that nice?” He purred, getting a kick of satisfaction from how Shoma swallowed hard.

“Yeah,” Shoma said, sounding rougher than before. “Feels good.”

Curious, Yuzuru closed his lips around Shoma’s earlobe. Gently, delicately, he scraped his teeth over the soft skin. Shoma gasped. Yuzuru’s lips twitched into a smile. Shoma was pretty sensitive just about everywhere, but it was interesting to find spots that made him more responsive than others.

“You like it?” Yuzuru asked, purposefully making his voice as airy and breathless as possible. He knew that he was being provocative, but it was fun. Just like when they had touched each other in Kobe; they could test their boundaries, take another little step, push a bit further and stop without crossing any lines. Open up a bit more, reveal more of themselves to each other.  
Everything Shoma had revealed so far, Yuzuru liked a lot. The more he found out just how responsive Shoma was to him, the more he wanted to explore just how receptive he could be.

Shoma shuddered again, unconsciously scraping his teeth over his lip. “Yeah. I like it.”

Shoma turned his face back towards Yuzuru. His eyes seemed darker, heavy-lidded. He reached out to touch Yuzuru’s cheek, his jaw. Feather-light, he skimmed Yuzuru’s jawline, down his neck and up again.  
Yuzuru hummed, letting his head roll to the side. “That’s nice.”

“You’re sensitive there, right?” Shoma asked, hushed, so close Yuzuru could feel the words warm against his cheek.

“Yeah-”

Yuzuru was cut off by Shoma leaning forward, pressing his lips to Yuzuru’s skin. He took the path his fingertips had followed, dragged his lips across Yuzuru’s jaw. Warm open-mouthed kisses. A slow descent down his neck. The slight dryness of Shoma’s lips counterpoint to the damp heat of his breath. Yuzuru felt himself flush. His eyes closed, neck arching. Instinct. Yuzuru didn’t think for a moment, just let himself feel. Enjoy.

His hand found their way into Shoma’s hair, his breath catching in his throat when Shoma’s teeth nipped at the juncture of neck and shoulder. Yuzuru cracked his eyes half-open to watch Shoma come back up from where had been mouthing at his throat. Yuzuru urged Shoma forward, catching his lips in a gentle kiss.

Shoma was also, apparently, in the mood to tease. When Yuzuru tried to press closer, kiss harder, Shoma pulled back. Yuzuru made a soft, frustrated noise, opening eyes to see Shoma’s smirk.

“Please,” Yuzuru asked softly, massaging the back of Shoma’s neck. That was all it took. Yuzuru could see the way Shoma’s pupils dilated, lips parting. It sent a wave of heat rushing over Yuzuru’s skin, settling low in his belly as a thrum of anticipation.

Shoma’s eyes shut, and he came forwards, meeting Yuzuru in a kiss that was more of what he wanted. A solid pressure, but nothing too hard. Lingering and warm. A sensual slide of lips, the play of tongue. Seeking each other, drawing closer. Yuzuru’s hand stroked down Shoma’s back, came around his waist, drifting up to his chest, pushing Shoma’s t-shirt up on its journey. Shoma sucked lightly on Yuzuru’s bottom lip. Yuzuru felt another spark shoot down his spine, mind blissfully empty from anything that wasn’t Shoma’s mouth or the way his hands twisted in his hair, wandered over his back.

Yuzuru urged Shoma to lie back and covered him. He settled between Shoma’s legs and felt Shoma’s knee raise, the thigh Yuzuru wasn’t straddling pressing against his hip. Yuzuru propped himself up on his forearm beside Shoma’s head, letting his free hand hold onto the leg at his hip. Yuzuru dipped down to nip at Shoma’s lips, hand drifting up from Shoma’s knee.

It was new territory to kiss in this kind of position. Shoma strained up to meet Yuzuru’s mouth, hands running up his back to grip on his shoulders. Yuzuru felt the way his shirt rode up, exposing his skin to the relatively cool air of the room. Far cooler than the small space between their bodies, that seemed to get hotter by the second. Yuzuru felt his body stir every time their lips met. There was a spark, a little thrill when Shoma’s hand touched the skin at Yuzuru’s lower back that had been exposed. Yuzuru squeezed at Shoma’s thigh. He wanted to kiss deeper, heavier. Be closer. _More_...

Their mouths brushed more than kissed. Breathing heavy against each other. Shoma’s hand slipped further up Yuzuru’s back. Under his t-shirt. Yuzuru’s hand slid further up Shoma’s thigh. Yuzuru let his mouth wander, back across Shoma’s jaw. Shoma held his breath and arched his neck when Yuzuru kissed the length of it. Panted as he doubled back. Yuzuru took Shoma’s lips, tongue sliding into his mouth while Shoma’s hand cradled the back of Yuzuru’s head. His fingers flexed in Yuzuru’s hair, and Yuzuru’s body shifted, lowering even further to press Shoma against the mattress. Yuzuru felt himself brush against Shoma’s thigh - lightly, on accident. Shoma moaned against him, softly from the back of his throat, as if he couldn’t help it. His hips rolled up.

A small sound. A small action. It hit Yuzuru suddenly just how much this was. Too much. His breath caught in his throat and an icy feeling washed over him. It was too much. Too fast. Wrong. He could feel how flushed Shoma’s skin was. When his hips had bucked up, he had felt Shoma against his hip. Yuzuru was aware of his own body; the tightness in his belly, the twitch of arousal that had been gradually building as they kissed and touched and teased. It wasn’t supposed to go this far. Steps were okay, but this was a leap. He couldn’t do this. It was too much. Too fast. Too soon.  
It had been okay when they had just been flirting. When they had just been playing. When it was just a bit of harmless fun.

Yuzuru pulled his hand off Shoma’s thigh and squeezed his eyes shut. He shook his head. He couldn’t get the words out.  
Shoma responded slow. Hand coming away from Yuzuru’s back, letting him come down from on top of Shoma’s body, rolling them onto their sides, detangling their legs. Yuzuru could hear the ragged pants of Shoma’s breath as he lifted his hands to smooth Yuzuru’s hair behind his ear. Stroking. Soothing. Yuzuru shook his head again, face buried against Shoma’s neck.

Shoma ran his fingers through Yuzuru’s hair silently. The action usually calmed Yuzuru, but now it was overstimulating. Every time Shoma’s fingertips brushed against his scalp, all Yuzuru could think was of how they were just seconds ago. Of how they could be if he hadn’t been struck with a bolt of panic. Shoma’s hands could be buried in his hair, twisting, pulling, raking through as they kissed and their bodies rocked together. It was tempting, to get back on that path, to continue in the direction. But it would be a mistake.

Yuzuru pulled back, forced himself to sit up. It felt uncomfortable, his pants awkwardly tight from the state he was in. Yuzuru turned his head away, distantly aware that Shoma was looking up at him. He could imagine what Shoma looked like right then; t-shirt rumpled and pulled up to expose a hipbone, a sliver of belly. Hair is disarray, face flush and lips plump and wet. Eyes hazy and probably a little confused. Yuzuru didn’t need to look to know Shoma was at least as aroused as he was. He had felt how hard Shoma had been against him, if only for a brief moment. If he looked now, Yuzuru was sure he would be weak to resist. But it wasn’t right. He wasn't ready.

He needed to get away. Calm down. Cool off.

Yuzuru cleared his throat. “If you’re not going to shower now, I will.”  
He stood, tugging down the front his t-shirt rather ineffectively.

Shoma made a soft, confused sound. “Okay-?”

Yuzuru escaped to the bathroom, closing the door carefully and leaning against it for a moment.  
This was stupid.

He turned on the shower, listening to the running water hitting the tiles for a moment before figuring he might as well actually step under it. Maybe it would calm him down, cool him off, get rid of some of the restlessness that was crawling under his skin.  
Yuzuru pulled his clothes off hastily and stepped under the water, turning the water down to a lukewarm spray. He closed his eyes, leaning against the cold tiles, hoping the water would wash away his frustration.

He could be touching Shoma right now. Could be being touched by Shoma. They could be laughing against each other’s skin about Yuzuru freezing up, moving past that point. His clothes could be on the floor of the bedroom instead of the bathroom.  
Yuzuru felt a little bit betrayed by the way his body twitched at that thought. Not helpful.

Yuzuru lifted himself away from the shower wall, tilting his head back and running his hands through his hair. He felt the water run over his face, down his neck, over his shoulder, cool against his chest and stomach.

Yuzuru wasn’t sure what his problem was. There were a lot of factors. Most it just felt kind of...wrong. Yuzuru was still so emotionally entangled with Javier, and Javier was miserable. It wasn’t right to take his relationship with Shoma further right now. Even if Javier had agreed to take a step back and focus on being friends, for now, there was still an element of possibility. Feelings lingered between them. Yuzuru hadn’t told Javier a definitive no, hadn’t outright rejected him. Yuzuru didn’t want to go further with Shoma until he had.

Physically, Yuzuru was beyond ready. Before, Yuzuru had ached to be held, longed to be kissed. Now Shoma was holding him, kissing him, but the ache just seemed to get stronger.  
But psychologically, emotionally, Yuzuru just wasn’t there yet. It would be easier if he didn’t care about Shoma so much. Sex didn’t have to be a big deal, it didn’t have to mean anything. But that just wasn’t true for them. Not now. Not in their relationship, not in the current situation. It felt too much like a decision. Like a commitment Yuzuru wasn’t sure he could make or keep.

Javier was the last person Yuzuru had slept with. The only person. The only person to have touched Yuzuru since Javier was...Yuzuru. No matter how much Yuzuru had tried to think of no one at all, or literally anyone else at all in those private moments, so often all that filled his mind was Javier. Because Yuzuru had loved him, had been with him. Javier had been Yuzuru’s only real point of reference. And he remained that way for so long. Two years. Two years without any relationship, any causal few dates, short fling or even one-night stand. Nothing. It left Yuzuru attributing all this additional importance on being sexual with someone. Not just someone. Shoma.

Yuzuru could almost hear Kanako in the back of his mind yelling ‘ _I told you so_ ’. This was why she had urged him to hit on other guys, go out, sleep with someone to start the process of moving on and getting over Javier. She tried to get him to accept the idea of having a rebound relationship with someone disposable, where everyone involved knew it was going nowhere, just to get Javier out of his system. So that he wouldn’t be in this exact position; with someone who was very much not disposable and not a rebound, scared to take things further because sex became this big thing, this milestone in a relationship it never had to be, this almighty symbol in his mind that he had made some kind of choice.  
He could imagine Kanako hissing at him ‘ _You should have just fucked Han while he was asking you out, moron._ ’

Not that Yuzuru would ever, could ever, tell Kanako about this. Even with how much she liked bawdy gossip, Yuzuru thought trying to talk to her about problems with having sex with Shoma would be a bit too much for her. She could probably empathise with the struggle to adjust from seeing Shoma as a cute kohai who was shy around him, to a friend, and now trying to shift gears into viewing him as someone who was sexually accessible. Affection had come easily, kissing was something he got used to and enjoyed a lot, but getting beyond that was a struggle.

It wasn’t as if Yuzuru didn’t want to go further with Shoma. He did. It wasn’t like he had never thought about it either because he had. This wasn’t even the first time they had gotten too close to that edge, and Yuzuru had gotten spooked. It wasn’t. There was just this wall that Yuzuru kept slamming into.

It couldn’t just be fun and exploring because it was too tied up in ideas of how seriously Yuzuru was taking the relationship. Yuzuru didn’t want to have sex with Shoma, and it mean more to Shoma than it meant to him. He didn’t want Shoma to think it meant something it didn’t. The thought tore in Yuzuru. He liked what was forming between them so much, and he wanted for it to continue to grow. But if they were going to go there, he wanted them to be meeting each other with the same intentions. Yuzuru couldn’t let himself be sexual with Shoma while he had Javier whispering in his ear about how he would consider changing all his plans after retirement for him. He couldn’t risk giving Shoma the impression that he was sure when he was still telling Javier there might be some possibility.

Yuzuru had to let go of Javier completely to really give himself to Shoma.

He still wasn’t ready.  
  


***  
  


Shoma was lying on his back, hugging a pillow to his chest when Yuzuru exited the bathroom. He seemed to be staring at the ceiling, lips moving as if he were whispering to himself.  
He closed to bathroom door behind him. Shoma sat up and looked at him, a touch concerned, as Yuzuru slowly walked closer. He cringed, guilty, thinking about how this all must seem to Shoma. They had been getting closer, and Yuzuru had froze and bolted.

Shoma swallowed. He looked uncomfortable, but not annoyed. Which wasn’t really surprising but was still worth noticing, because if he had been annoyed, it would be perfectly understandable.  
“Feel better?”

Yuzuru nodded and sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry.” He blew out a breath, lowering his eyes to focus on Shoma’s knees. “For leaving you alone to hide.”

“It’s okay.”

Yuzuru cleared his throat awkwardly. “I’m- I’m sorry. For stopping like that.”

Shoma made a soft sound. “Please don’t apologise for that.”  
He moved, putting the pillow back in its place at the head of the bed and coming more to the edge so he was next to Yuzuru rather than somewhere behind him. “We said we’ll match each other’s pace, right?”

Yuzuru nodded stiffly. “Right.”

“That means everything. All the time. If one of us isn’t into it, we stop. It’s not a problem.”  
Yuzuru’s gaze drifted, from Shoma’s knees to his hands. His fingers absently picking at the duvet and then smoothing it down.  
“I- I don’t want to go too fast either?” Shoma said, sounding a little bit embarrassed, pausing to take a breath. “It’s good to stop. I like knowing we can. I wasn’t uncomfortable this time, but some other time I might be...”

Yuzuru smiled, finally looking up at Shoma’s face. Any other person might have had a little silent rant to themselves if a lover suddenly got cold feet and ran to hide the way Yuzuru had. But Shoma apparently spent that time thinking about what to say to Yuzuru to make him feel better, give some sense of security that it was okay to stop, so that next time he could just say no and not need to run away. It made Yuzuru ache. Just knowing how deeply Shoma cared. He reached out and covered Shoma’s hand with his own, stopping him from fiddling with the sheets.  
“I’m glad you’re more comfortable with me.”

“This is why I can be,” Shoma said earnestly. “I know if you don’t want to do something, you’ll tell me. We’ll stop, and it’s fine. And if next time I don’t want something, we’ll stop and it’s fine.”

“And when we both want more, we’ll...continue.”

Shoma’s lips twitched, all amused and coy. “Exactly.”

Yuzuru sighed and fell backwards, lying on his back for a moment. Shoma followed him, both turning to their sides to face each other. Shoma’s hair was still mussed from Yuzuru’s hands and the way he had been pressed into the bed. The soft waves unusually kinky, sticking out in odd places. Yuzuru assumed he didn’t look much better with his hair still damp and messy from his hasty attempts to dry off with a towel. Yuzuru tried to smooth some of Shoma’s hair down. It was getting pretty long, but it suited Shoma like that.

“I...ruined the moment,” Yuzuru said with some regret and a lot of embarrassment. He was the older of the two, he should be the more mature one. He should have been able to handle that kind of situation better. He should have just stayed, said sorry there and then. They could have joked about it, lightened the mood, eased each other out of it, calmed down together.

Shoma shook his head, making unflinching eye contact. His eyes were dark.  
“No. I liked that. I like you teasing me. I like kissing you. I like you touching me.” His voice was low, soft, slow. Making sure Yuzuru felt every word as much as he heard them. “It was fun. I enjoyed it. Stopping didn’t ruin it.”

Yuzuru swallowed, dazed at Shoma being so straight-forward about it. What Shoma had said a moment ago, what he was now repeatedly making clear to Yuzuru - that stopping was okay, if Yuzuru didn’t want it - niggled at him.  
“It wasn’t that I didn’t-- I was into it. I liked it too.”

Shoma smirked. “I know.”

Of course. Just as Yuzuru had felt Shoma against him, Shoma had felt Yuzuru’s response too. Saw it, even, as Yuzuru waddled away. Maybe it was a bit embarrassing but it was something Yuzuru wanted Shoma to know.

“I want. I want to? But I just. I can’t right now,” Yuzuru tried to explain, hand coming away from Shoma’s hair.

“It’s okay,” Shoma assured, as sincere as he possibly could be. “I won’t push you.”

Yuzuru considered Shoma for a moment. He didn’t really know much about who Shoma had been with before; when did it happen, what was it like. Shoma knew little scraps about Yuzuru’s past, but Yuzuru really didn’t know anything about Shoma’s except the basic fact that Yuzuru was not the first. It struck him that maybe Shoma wasn’t just being considerate, but that it came from somewhere.  
“Have you had that before? Someone push you too much.”

“Yeah.” Shoma lowered his gaze. “He was- It was just last year of high school, I sort of dated this guy.” His face scrunched up, self-correcting. “Well. We fooled around. It wasn’t really-- We just hooked up for a while...”  
  
He shrugged. Yuzuru got the point.Whatever kind of relationship it was, it hadn’t been serious.  
  
“He never _forced_ me to do anything. But if I said no or wasn’t in the mood he’d get pissy or he’d whine to convince me. Sometimes I felt like I had to go along with what he wanted even if I wasn’t into it.”

Yuzuru felt a twinge of empathy. “That’s horrible.”

Shoma shrugged again dismissively. “It wasn’t every time. But yeah. Sometimes it was really hard to enjoy it when we were fooling around.” His eyes rose, a small embarrassed giggle escaping from him. “And even when I was into it we always had to be really fast and really quiet.”

Yuzuru laughed. “That’s why I never dated or anything in high school. I was too scared of getting caught.”

“It was so bad. I was terrified.” Shoma smiled. “It was still fun. It still felt good but half my brain was always somewhere else.”  
He reached out, mirroring what Yuzuru had done before, smoothing down unruly hair with a gentle hand. His tone dropped to something more intimate.  
“I don’t want it to be like that with you. I don’t want either of us to be uncomfortable. I want us to both just enjoy it.” He met Yuzuru’s eyes. “I want to be focused on you and nothing else.”

Yuzuru felt as if a bit of air had been knocked out of him. If he had been struggling to view Shoma sexually, he wasn’t so much right then. His throat felt dry. He wanted the same. Nothing, no one else, playing on their minds. Just the two of them. Entirely focused on each other, enjoying each other, nothing holding them back. No questions. Both knowing without a doubt that they wanted each other. Yuzuru bit his lip.  
“That sounds good.”

“You never fooled around in high school?” Shoma asked lightly after a moment, just curious.

Yuzuru shook his head. “No. Never.”

“I would’ve thought you’d be really popular.” Shoma hummed as if that was interesting.

Yuzuru snorted. “You’d be surprised. I think you’re forgetting what I looked like in my gawky and awkward phase.”

“You’re still gawky and awkward.” Shoma sniggered. Yuzuru shoved him, laughing. Instead of snatching his hand back away from Shoma’s arm after playfully jostling him, Yuzuru left his hand to rest lazily on Shoma’s waist. Shoma shifted his body closer, not for them to touch or kiss or to be any kind of lead-in for anything like that, but just to be comfortable while they talked.  
“So...Javi was your first?” He asked with the tiniest hesitation.

“Yeah,” Yuzuru answered, choosing to be honest, to open up like Shoma had. He didn’t want Shoma to get the feeling that this was some forbidden topic. It was natural to be curious. “He’s. The only person.”

Shoma’s mouth formed a silent ‘oh’ before he spoke again. “You said you rushed too much.” His fingers stroked Yuzuru’s hip as if coaxing him to stay relaxed even with the change in topic. “Did he ever pressure you?”

“No.” Yuzuru giggled, his cheeks heating. He shook his head. “No. He didn’t have to. I was really enthusiastic.”

Shoma’s face contorted into an interesting expression. Amused, curious, open for Yuzuru to say more but with an odd flicker of tension in his jaw that didn’t quite belong there. Whatever it was, Shoma smothered it quickly, presenting a pleasant smile, head cocking. “Oh?”

“I had had a crush on his since I was...sixteen? Maybe seventeen. And when we got together we’d been training with each other for two years already. So.” Yuzuru shrugged.

It was a necessary explanation. Any eagerness he had wasn’t because Javier was innately more of something than Shoma, just the gestation period for those feelings to grow had been very, very long. By the time they got round to actually doing anything about their attraction to each other, Yuzuru was jumping out of his skin wanting to do whatever he could with Javier.

“If he needed to, I think he would have been patient with me,” Yuzuru mused. His voice grew smaller, quieter. Maybe he was being a little bit too honest now. “But he didn’t really need to wait long. I wanted him so much. I’ve never wanted anyone as much as him.”

“I kinda wish I hadn’t fooled around. With someone I didn’t really care about,” Shoma admitted, fingers still tracing circles into Yuzuru’s hip. Shoma watched the motion of his own hand as if it was helping him think. “We were friends but we weren’t serious about each other. It must’ve been really nice. For your first relationship to be something special.”

There’s a flicker in depths of Shoma’s eyes. The smallest emotion, something distant and sad. It could have been regret but Yuzuru couldn’t help but wonder if Shoma had seen what Yuzuru had hoped to keep hidden. Maybe Shoma knew that no feeling that had been fostered for so long couldn’t be easily wiped away. Traces were bound to be left behind. He knew about the hurt, even if Yuzuru didn’t reveal the depth of it. Yuzuru wondered if Shoma could see the brand Javi left behind.

“Maybe it better though. That you got to learn without getting hurt,” Yuzuru offered. There was some value in that experience without having the pain that followed when it all went badly. First boyfriends were rarely there forever. “You still have a first love to look forward to, right? That will be special for you.”

“Yeah.” Shoma smiled, meeting Yuzuru’s gaze dead-on. “It is.”

Yuzuru watched the shyness creep into Shoma’s eyes and felt something twist in his chest. He bit the inside of his lip. He knew Shoma was wary of the coming months where they'd be separate, unable to continue to tend to the relationship they were building. Yuzuru understood that; it was natural to be worried they would run out of steam while they weren't occupying the same space. Yuzuru meant it when he said they could keep in contact. It could work, it could be okay, it could be enough. But video calls, photos and messages slowed down by time zones and schedules that scarcely lined up would never be the same as standing in the same place, talking face-to-face, touching.

Perhaps Shoma was concerned that their relationship had budded in the spring and bloomed through this summer; that they would wither through the coming autumn and be dead by winter. Yuzuru wasn't sure that wouldn't be the case, but he didn’t really think of this as their blooming period either. Yuzuru had thought that what was growing between them was tender, delicate - more like a seed that had just started to sprout. He supposed he couldn't really carry on with that delusion much longer. Yuzuru held back his heart until he was sure there was something to give. He thought Shoma did the same, waiting to be positive Yuzuru would be there to take it. He thought they were slowly sharing pieces with each other, step by step, in sync. Yuzuru hadn't realised that Shoma was actually ahead, already basking in the sunny warmth of a feeling that hadn't yet reached him. Sometimes Yuzuru could see it; like the thin golden light of morning sun, dappled through a canopy of leaves. He felt like he could catch up and stand beside Shoma out in that bright open space; feel what he felt. But he wasn’t sure yet. He was stuck in the shade, getting just flickers of that sunlight, carried on a breeze.

Shoma shifted, turning more playful, driving the conversation off course.  
“Did you ever nearly get caught?”

“No. We were always in Javi’s apartment.”

“ _Boring_ ,” Shoma teased. “You never even once did anything in a locker room?”

“No!” Yuzuru laughed, a little scandalised by the mere idea. He took Shoma’s bait though, his smile turning mischievous. “It was better that way. We never had to be fast. Or quiet.” Yuzuru’s face felt hot, but Shoma was laughing with him, not upset at all at what he was suggesting. Yuzuru tickled at Shoma’s ribs, raising his brow. “Did you?”

Shoma nodded mutely.

Yuzuru’s eyes widened. “Really? What happened?”

Shoma giggled, blush rising in his cheeks. “We were at his house, his mom was out...somewhere, I don’t remember. He had books out. To act like he was studying if she came back.”  
Yuzuru snorted. Typical. Shoma’s face scrunched up in a cute little wince. “She came home while we were doing something. Anyway, she came in his room to give him a snack or something.”

“Oh my God,” Yuzuru wheezed. He could imagine how mortified he would be if he was fooling around and his mom walked in. Even if they were just kissing or something less incriminating.

“So, I was under the desk-”

“ _What?_ ” Yuzuru spluttered. He hadn’t realised the story wasn’t over, never mind being prepared for that.  
They both broke out into laughter. Shoma his face behind his hand for a moment, shoulder’s shaking.

“I was under the desk. Not moving. Too scared to breathe. He was doubled over pretending to study hoping she won’t see me,” Shoma continued once he got himself together a bit. Yuzuru covered his mouth to chuckle into it, cheeks aching. Shoma closed his eyes, possibly from the horror of the memory.  
“She tried to talk to him but he couldn’t speak. Because. He was still. In my mouth.” Shoma broke off to give Yuzuru a chance to calm down a bit since he was laughing so hard he could barely gasp for air.  
“She didn’t catch me but it was the worst moment of my _life_.”

Yuzuru forced himself to take slow, deep breathes and wipes tears from the corner of his eyes. Laughing his way into an asthma attack would not be ideal. “What did you do when she left?”

Shoma’s face turned bright red. “I...I finished what I was doing.”

“Shoma!” Yuzuru smacked Shoma’s arm lightly, throwing his head back to laugh even more. Shoma was going to kill him but at least he’d die amused. Shoma groaned in embarrassment and buried his face in the bed covers while Yuzuru tried to calm his giggles.

“Wait.” Yuzuru hiccuped. “If she didn’t know you were there, how did you leave?”

Shoma lifted his head out of the duvet. “I climbed out his window.”

Yuzuru wheezed. “I never would have guessed you would do that.” He poked at Shoma’s belly. “You’re so _naughty_. I thought you were a good boy, like me.”

“You’re not that good,” Shoma drawled. “I have to look at Javi tomorrow knowing you had loud sex in his apartment.”

“You don’t have to think about it!”

“The mental image is there,” Shoma said with a shake of his head. “There’s no taking it back.”

“Oh yeah?” Yuzuru teased, leaning forward and purred by Shoma’s ear. “Do you like that mental image?”

Shoma hummed, pretending to think about it. “Javi’s pretty handsome…”

Yuzuru chuckled and nipped at Shoma’s neck. Brat.  
  
Shoma pushed him lightly, looking very red. “You’re awful.”  
He wriggled away, pulling himself up and getting his feet on the floor. “I’m gonna take that shower now.”

“Wait,” Yuzuru dragged himself up and planted a small kiss on Shoma lips. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

Yuzuru just smiled and kissed him again. For being patient, for taking away any pressure and guilt. There were so many ways Shoma could have responded to Yuzuru suddenly backing off, but he had chosen to focus on making sure Yuzuru knew he was able to do so if he needed to slow down. Opened up a topic to make sure there was nothing they couldn’t be honest with each other about. Shown another side of himself, revealed a little more, let Yuzuru get closer.  
If the roles were reversed, Yuzuru didn’t think he’d be able to do that.

He hadn’t really liked the idea of Shoma trying too hard to do the right thing all the time, but if this was a result of that, then he couldn’t really say it was a bad thing. He didn’t like it when he thought it was Shoma feeling anxious or insecure. This time he didn’t think that was the case. It was just Shoma being thoughtful, caring about what Yuzuru needed from him. What they needed from each other. It wasn’t a barrier Shoma hid behind. Not this time.

Yuzuru pulled back and pushed at Shoma’s chest.  
“Go and have your shower.”

 

***

There was a hint of sadness to the last shows, but they ended on a high note. The joy of just being able to be there with the crowd and the pleasure of being able to skate with people Yuzuru liked and respected mingled with the sense that if Yuzuru was able to attend as usual next year too, things would be different. This could be the last time he’d stand on the edge of a season where he’d be competing alongside Javier, Patrick… New faces would enter, and familiar faces would fade away. It was always going to come, but he hadn’t been prepared for it to be so soon.

Yuzuru slipped on the opening number, sliding across the ice on his knees. Instead of being back-to-back with Javier and shooting the crowd, Yuzuru ended up facing him and shooting Javier instead. They laughed as they stumbled backstage, pausing to pose for a photograph before they changed for their next skate. Yuzuru wondered what he would see in those photographs when he got to look at them, how they would change in time. Would he see them, still a little awkward next to each other, smiling at the camera as friends in the early stages of repairing their relationship? As ex-lovers trying to adjust? Would it be a memorial of a moment when they transitioned into just being colleagues instead of comrades?

Photographs were odd in that way. They were little pockets of time that were frozen, sealed off, to be viewed but never interacted with again. Yuzuru could look back at different versions of himself but never return to them. Posed photographs that were him-but-not-him, staged and forced for one reason or another, pictures of himself on the ice, practising or performing in a moment he would never be able to perfectly recreate. Yuzuru doubted a time would come when he would long to return to this moment with Javier - despite things getting better between them, no longer avoiding each other, not stilted and frozen around each other, they still weren’t right. Javier was still trying to pull his mood back up to a healthy level, Yuzuru still trying to figure out how to navigate around old scars and freshly-hurt feelings. Their smiles were tenuous, conversations still tentative, their amiability was precarious. But still, it could be their last summer show together as rink-mates, rivals, competitors. These moments together were still precious. Even if it felt like their relationship was liable to crumble at Yuzuru’s fingertips at any moment.  
Yuzuru hoped that when put into context a month or year from now, these moments would be a point they moved in from to a happier, better place. He didn’t want to look back and feel regret.

Yuzuru yelled his thanks to the crowd at the end of the show as loud as he possibly could, sweat running down his face. When he said it had been the most fun he had skating possibly ever, he meant it wholeheartedly. He had always loved skating, and always known that if ever the pressure and struggle got too much he could quit. Stop competing before the downsides sucked all the joy out of skating. But it seemed that while the pressure rose and competing was set to get harder; while Yuzuru’s ideals got ever higher and it got harder to merely beat himself, meet the bar that he had set, the joy in skating only grew. The challenges made the achievements feel more significant, losses made the successes sweeter, hardships made him appreciate the good times all the more. Being injured last summer and having to sit out the ice shows, missing out on excited crowds that just wanted to be entertained and were thrilled to see every skater in attendance, meant he didn’t take for granted how great it was to be fit and healthy and able to perform.

Yuzuru bowed to the crowd and disappeared backstage for the last time. 

 

***

 

Shoma stared at Yuzuru’s suitcase. They’d just spent the past hour packing up, ready to leave in the morning. Yuzuru could see the reality of not being in a room together for five or six months sink in. He didn’t show much outwardly, but the absence of any kind of expression in itself was telling. Shoma was usually calm, placid, striving for a neutral space in his emotions that leant towards positivity more than anything else. The kind of mental space that was like a calm lake on a sunny, windless day. That was what Shoma usually occupied. Negative emotions only burst out of him when they were too strong to hold back, too overwhelming. He wouldn’t sulk now, wouldn’t throw himself down on the bed and whine, but Yuzuru could tell he was sad. He could see the dark clouds building behind his eyes while he stared blankly at Yuzuru’s suitcase.

“This is going to suck,” Shoma said finally.

“Yeah.” Yuzuru mustered up a weak smile. He also felt a curl of sadness in knowing it would be so long until they’d see each other but he suspected Shoma was also anxious that Yuzuru would lose interest and drift away. Which was funny, in a way, since it was in the long stretch of being apart last season where Yuzuru’s interest in Shoma had sparked. In that time when they started getting closer, and Yuzuru started to get to know Shoma better. Yuzuru nudged him.  
“We already know we can keep in touch pretty well.”

“Yeah but it’s different.”

Yuzuru nodded. They were different, what they were trying to build and maintain was not just a new friendship amongst teammates, and they weren’t just training for a regular season. Yuzuru’s thoughts swirled, undefined and ungrounded. There were too many things to consider. Yuzuru wasn’t sure how things should be prioritised between personal lives and skating because that was something he’d never been particularly good at balancing. The last time Yuzuru told someone he wanted to focus on skating, it was Javier, and he thought it was Yuzuru ending their relationship.

And there was Javier. It lingered at the back of Yuzuru’s mind that while they trained together, they would be trying to calibrate their relation to each other. He was still wary of the fact he wasn’t sure what direction they would end up going. He was worried about following Javier’s footsteps too much, about being emotionally unfaithful to Shoma and hurting him. If it seemed that’s how things would play out, Yuzuru knew he’d have to end it. He wanted Shoma to be somewhat prepared for that possibility even if Yuzuru was hoping to avoid it at all costs.

Mostly he didn’t want Shoma to lapse into trying so hard, too hard, to make it work because he hated the idea of him fearing that Yuzuru would dump him or do something behind his back.  
Perhaps Yuzuru was projecting, but the openness they had fostered so far was something Yuzuru wanted to protect. He didn’t want any falsehoods to start creeping in even if it was just little things like forcing themselves to talk if there was nothing to talk about.

He had no idea how to even begin to put those thoughts into words.

“Maybe...We shouldn’t...push ourselves?” Yuzuru started, slow and uncertain. “It’s okay. If we give each other some space.”

”Sure.”

Yuzuru glanced at Shoma. His shoulders were stiff; his face hadn’t moved at all as if it was carved from stone. Yuzuru’s stomach flipped. This was already going wrong.

“I mean. We don’t have to swear we’ll talk every day or something,” Yuzuru amended hastily. “We spend a lot of the time in different time zones. And training. And you have shows, and then we’ll be preparing for competitions-”

“Yeah,” Shoma said flatly, still stoic. “We’re going to be busy a lot.”

”I just. I think it’s better. If we don’t put too much pressure on each other?” Yuzuru said, still not sure the words he was spitting out were doing him justice. “I don’t want us to it to ever feel like a chore for us to talk.”

Shoma’s face finally changed but to Yuzuru’s utter dismay the neutral mask cracked because Shoma was hurt. His brows drew together, mouth downturned, distinctly wounded.  
“You think it will?”

“No!” Yuzuru shook his head. “I don’t want to worry about it either though. But. If it’s not working. If we think it should end, we should--”  
Shoma’s face fell further. Yuzuru’s heart dropped to his stomach. In his desperation to explain himself, he had unleashed the absolute worst word vomit. “I am saying this all wrong.”

Shoma shook his head, chewing on his lip miserably. “No. It’s better to know how you fe--”

“Shoma.” Yuzuru grabbed his hand, urging Shoma to look at him. “I’m not breaking up with you.”

Shoma looked doubtful, still chewing his lip.

Yuzuru blew out a breath, frustrated with himself. “I just mean. We’ve been just going forward, thinking of each other’s feelings, seeing how it goes, right?”

Shoma blinked. “Right.”

”Let’s keep doing that,” Yuzuru said, hoping he was getting out of this hole he had dug himself into. “I just don’t want to put pressure on each other. We’re still just seeing if it works.”

“Okay.” Shoma blinked again like he wasn’t sure what Yuzuru was getting at or why he had bothered to start this.

Yuzuru sighed. “Skating comes first.”

”Of course.”

“Especially this season,” Yuzuru emphasised. “I want to focus on my training.”

Shoma looked confused. “Me too?”

”And I don’t want to get in the way of your goals.”

“I don’t want to be in the way of yours either,” Shoma said as if this was obvious.

”So. It’s okay if we don’t talk every day or if we’re slow replying to each other,” Yuzuru said, taking his time to make sure he wasn’t going to say the wrong thing again. “We should talk when we want to. When we can.”  
Shoma nodded slowly. Yuzuru gave Shoma’s hand a light squeeze.  
“I’ll look forward to it every time. When we can talk.”

Yuzuru felt a trickle of relief when Shoma’s lips started to lift into a smile. “Me too.”

“But. Five months is a long time,” Yuzuru said hesitantly. “If either of us wants to end it we shouldn’t drag it on?”

The suggestion of a smile on Shoma’s face was instantly wiped away. Shoma looked down at his hands. “I guess.”

“That sounds bad.” Yuzuru wanted to smack his head against the wall. He was making a total mess out of this. All he wanted to do was make sure they both knew where they stood before he went back to Toronto. He was supposed to be making things more transparent, not more confusing.

“I mean... If we agree we won’t force ourselves then neither of us will worry, right?” Yuzuru said, hoping that he was getting his thoughts across somewhat accurately. “We’ve been honest about things, and that’s good. I want us to keep that.” He paused, gently lifting Shoma’s chin with his finger, so he was looking at him again. “I want to be something that eases your stress, not adds to it.”

“I want the same.”

“When I say we shouldn’t interrupt our training, I do not mean I want to break up with you,” Yuzuru stressed, wanting to be as clear as possible.

Shoma tilted his head, narrowing his eyes slightly as if he were figuring something out. “I understand.”

“If we can make the long-distance thing work half as good as the being together thing…” Yuzuru shrugged, smiling. “Then. We’ll see how it goes...”

Shoma snorted and playfully smacked Yuzuru’s shoulder. “Sometimes you’re really dumb.”

Yuzuru groaned. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“I thought you were good with words,” Shoma continued, exasperated. “You talk so much. How can you be that bad at it?”

Yuzuru groaned again, leaning his forehead against Shoma’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said, muffled. “I really like you.”

“I really like you too,” Shoma huffed. “But that was awful.”

“I’m sorry,” Yuzuru said again, lifting his head. He pecked Shoma’s cheek in apology. “I said everything wrong.” Another kiss, a little closer to Shoma’s mouth. “I’ll make it up to you.”

Shoma rolled his eyes.

There were things that would make it easier. Like Shoma spending time in Chicago again, just an hour time difference from Toronto would make talking and video calls unintrusive to their routines. The problems with time zones would really come into play once the season began, especially when Shoma would be going to each competition a week early to avoid being jet-lagged during the events. They agreed to keep each other updated on results, though Shoma benefitted from that more than Yuzuru since he would often watch events in some way, while Shoma preferred to not know what his rivals were doing since it would make him nervous. He was trying to focus on himself, his own progress, he didn't want to know too many details of how competitors were doing.

They curled up on the bed together, making some vague outline of when would be better to contact each other and when it would be difficult until they both felt more assured that it wouldn’t be impossible to make something work.

“Can you...stay? Just this one time?” Shoma asked, holding on when Yuzuru had half-heartedly suggested they sleep.  
They hadn’t slept beside each other yet. Maybe Shoma had wanted to ask some other time but had been too scared. Yuzuru stroked Shoma’s cheek.

“Yeah.” Yuzuru smiled. “But you know I have one creepy eye that’s open when I sleep, right?”

Shoma chuckled. “Yes, I know.”

”And I’m probably going to kick you,” Yuzuru warned. He was often restless at night.

“I won’t notice. I’m a really heavy sleeper.” Shoma shrugged. “If I don’t move at all in the night it’s fine. I’m not dead. That’s just how I sleep.”

Yuzuru laughed, wiggling to get more comfortable.  
“It’s okay if we just sleep right?” He asked, making sure there was no misunderstanding. “You weren’t thinking of anything else?”

Shoma inclined his head against his pillow. “Were you thinking of something else?”

“No…”

Shoma smiled slyly. “Then just sleeping is fine.”

It was nice to kiss goodnight and stay there, wake up in the morning and have Shoma still dozing next to him. Yuzuru smiled, feeling a rush of affection as the morning sun streamed in from a crack in the blinds and kissed Shoma’s cheek. Yuzuru dipped his fingers into the golden light, caressing where the warm light painted his cheek. Shoma’s lashes fluttered.

Shoma had woken up and padded into the bathroom to brush his teeth because Yuzuru refused to kiss him with morning breath.Yuzuru waited for him, threw open the blinds and enjoyed the warmth of the sunlight that flooded the room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long I basically had a little bit of depression which can make it hard to muster the motivation to do things.  
> Please leave comments if you'd like to, I really love seeing how people like the chapter. I sometimes worry people are maybe not enjoying it anymore ^^;;  
> We're out of the ~relationship drama heavy chapters~ pretty much. The next few will be a bit lighter ^^ hopefully I can get the written faster too.
> 
> *stares into the abyss* this chapter is over 30K. I'm sorry. I don't know how this happened.


	18. Transition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As relationships change and time goes on, there's an awkward stage. Yuzuru is phasing between states in three ways. He supposes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Sorry this took so long. I have no idea why this took me so long to finish x_x Hopefully this chapter doesn't leave you disappointed after such a long wait. I will try to be less lazy. I'm sorry guys. 
> 
> Oh. This chap has some sexual content. Like actual sexual content not just Yuzu having a daydream.

**Transition**

 

Yuzuru winced as thumbs slowly ran up, starting from the bottom of the lateral hamstring tendon, up over the semitendinosus muscle. Not too much pressure, but enough ease out the build-up of lactic acid, enough to coax the blood to flow upwards back to the heart. Enough pressure to make Yuzuru’s face screw up in discomfort. It was always the same, though. A moment of pressure, a twinge of discomfort, and then the release. Over the gastrocnemius muscles, hamstrings, quadriceps. From medial to lateral. Easing out any stiffness, noting any unusual tenderness.

Just another part of the routine. Part of training.

Not only what would be done on ice would be key, but everything else too. Before he stepped on the ice, he had to warm up. A routine carefully put together, refined and rearranged by coaches and trainers and physiotherapists to wake up muscles, warm them and strengthen them before he put them to work. Stretching and cooling down was important too. All the little things that came after practicing were now something Yuzuru took greater care with; even when there was no pain or potential injuries in his ankles or knees Yuzuru had to ice his legs after practice, massages for his legs and back, weekly acupuncture to help ease away aches and pains.  And there was the gym. Yuzuru hadn’t been exactly invested in the gym in the past, doing very little muscle training favouring other forms of exercise instead. Now he pushed himself to do more, not really aiming to bulk up the muscle he had but working to strengthen them, build up his stamina.  


“We don’t want you getting overwhelmed,” Brian told Yuzuru, with the little smile that usually meant Brian was hoping Yuzuru understood or agreed but wasn’t entirely sure of either.

“Let’s take everything step by step. Don’t leap ahead and focus only on the end goal. Break it down. Every training session, every competition, little goals we can hit over time.”

Yuzuru did understand, and he agreed. His habit of locking onto one ultimate goal could be detrimental. It would grow until it was too much — he would be too focused, too intense, too intent on holding this one thing in his hands. Perfection. Improving little things wasn’t enough. It had gotten to him last season. His world records. The _almost_ perfect performances before the injury. The desire to not just emulate those clean performances but to better them — be clean with more difficult technical content, more difficulty in every aspect of the program — had weighed on him all last season. It was only when he broke everything down, one element at a time, that he got what he ultimately wanted.

Yuzuru would take it step by step. Day by day. Competition by competition.

Yuzuru would do what he could with the time that was left to develop, refine, grow stronger. Pilates twice a week, muscle training in the gym - these were a normal, regular part of the off-season routine. Last year, Yuzuru had been limited in what he could do; dance classes had been forgone in favour of rehabilitation after injury. This year he had his health, so he was free to take up some ballet through the summer. There were plans, for the week or so Yuzuru would spend in Japan too - a workshop in traditional dance, consultation with nutritionists to re-work his diet if needed. 

It wouldn’t be enough to perform old programs well with more difficult jumps; he needed to be more polished on every level. Yuzuru watched other skater's performances, saw how their scoring changed, and how his scores compared. It was clear enough from protocol to protocol that there were areas where Yuzuru had hit the ceiling of what judges were willing to give, while others had not. As their base values rose, and the gaps in other areas were slowly closing up, there was no way Yuzuru could stand still. He had to push himself harder if he wanted to win. He couldn’t take anything for granted.

Scores were the judges’ responsibility; there was nothing he could do about that. His own performance was the only thing he could control. It was his responsibility to do everything he could to be a worthy winner. To be the best he could be. To move closer to his ideal. 

Yuzuru made sure he gave himself moments to relax too. Reading. Playing video games sprawled on his bed, chatting with friends in some way or another. Going for walks in the bright open spaces he had gone to so many times in the previous season. The mind needed as much attention as the body. Skating was as much about psychology as it was athleticism.

Every element was of paramount importance, even more so than ever before. There was no more ‘next season’, no other off-seasons to tune up, no more additional time to make up any lost ground or areas that still lacked. Time was in short supply.

Eight months. Less than eight. Five competitions. That was the time Yuzuru had left to prepare for the Olympics.

Yuzuru huffed, annoyed, and threw himself down on his bed. He had gotten up early, got a ride to the club only to be told by Brian they had no rink. No first floor access, which meant no gym either. No training. Brian had hoped that, maybe, they could have come up with something they could do instead, even if it was just some off-ice work, so Yuzuru had waited for a while. Turns out the training rooms were flooded and couldn’t be cleared for use.

> _My rink melted ٩(๑`^´๑)۶_

Yuzuru frowned as he typed out the message. Shoma would likely be asleep, so the cathartic effect of ranting to someone would be lost for at least another nine hours. Which was a bummer. He considered trying to message Javier, but European time zones would be a whole other riddle Yuzuru couldn’t bother solving so he left it. Besides, Javier might not particularly want Yuzuru messaging him banal complaints during his vacation.

The dance studios were on the second floor, so Yuzuru could have done something semi-productive with his time in theory. But, no. He hadn’t booked a room, they were being used and there wasn’t space in those classes for him to come crashing in part-way through. Brian had given him a ride home, at least and promised he would get a space for the rest of the week but just hadn’t had time to arrange a replacement for today. 

Yuzuru hoped he would have alternative rinks booked for the rest of the week. Public sessions were fine in a pinch but depending on how busy they were; it could be limiting, a booked out space for the regular training group would be far better if it was at all attainable.

At least they were in Toronto, where there was ice rinks all over the city. Though a lot of them were hockey rinks, and the hockey rinks weren’t always keen on inviting figure skaters in to train because of the holes that tended to be left behind from jumps. Yuzuru suspected that if they wound up in a hockey rink for a day or two, he’d be doing a lot less jumps and a lot more edge control exercises. Out of courtesy.  


Not being able to train made Yuzuru restless. He went for a run, albeit a short one. He did whatever off-ice things he could until his mom told him to stop jumping around the house because he was driving her insane. He studied for a while, and then vented some of his frustration into video games. Until he got some signs of life from the other side of the world.

> _It melted???_

Yuzuru smiled. He could imagine Shoma’s confused face, the way he would tilt his head and scrunch up his nose. It would be early in Japan. Maybe Shoma had just woken up; hair fluffy from sleep and eyes still drowsy, the imprint of a pillow crease in his cheek.

Yuzuru tapped out an explanation, a lot less frustrated than he had been earlier on in the day.

> _A racoon broke in and chewed on the cooling system_

Shoma, naturally, found this hilarious. Initially, Yuzuru grumbled at that, but it was what Yuzuru needed - someone to point out the absurdity of this horribly bad luck and revel in the funny side.

> _At least it’s now and not in January._

Yuzuru shuddered. There was that. He appreciated the way Shoma seemed to catch the silver-lining. It was frustrating to have his training rink out of commission because a raccoon, of all things, broke in and ruined Yuzuru’s week. But it wouldn’t be that costly if Yuzuru’s training was interrupted now. For a day or two. Really it wasn’t a big problem at all. Not like it would be if it were later in the season, closer to the Olympics, or for longer than a week.

It’s not like there weren’t other things he could do while the rink was being repaired.

***

It took a week for the rink to be fully functional again. But it was fine. Yuzuru was calm. Brian had spent some time at his cabin so was relaxed and in a good mood. The club was now, hopefully, racoon-proofed. Yuzuru had clumsily joked about chasing away all the animals on the grounds to make sure no more came in for a nibble. Brian had just ruffled his hair.

Yuzuru flicked his fringe out of his eyes and looked at the map that hung in Brian’s office. He used it to remind himself of where international competitions were and which skaters from the club would be attending, with little colour-coded tabs he would move around through the season. It was empty for now, other than a little tab over in Korea. Junhwan had a national ranking event soon. He wasn’t ready for it; lingering injury in his hips and ankle was still causing him pain. Yuzuru felt bad for him. His country had pushed for him to leave junior competitions, and Junhwan had his sights set on attending the Olympic games in his home country but he was stumbling at the starting blocks.

Yuzuru squinted as he scanned the map. Yuzuru could read some English on sight, but a lot of things still required a little more concentration.

“Are you okay?” Tracy asked, coming up behind him, a little curious. Yuzuru had gotten into the habit of going through the day’s practice session once it was over - giving his thoughts if something wasn’t working out. He preferred to wait until his training was done for the day, not liking to break focus too frequently, and usually opted for the relative privacy of the office over the space beside the ice. It wasn’t exactly normal for Yuzuru to slip into the office during a break. He hadn’t had a particularly bad practice so far, but he was distracted. Maybe getting this one thing off his mind would get him back on track.

Yuzuru gestured at the map, not looking back at her. “Where is Montreal?”

Tracy pointed it out over his shoulder. Yuzuru lifted a finger to the map, bringing it down where Toronto was marked out and slowly tracing the path to Montreal. He thought it would be closer. But, still, it didn’t look _too_ far away.

“You’ve been there before, remember?” Tracy said. Yuzuru could hear the smile in her voice. He hummed, nodding his head. Last season, for Autumn classic. Probably some other time too. He remembered the competition, but not the journey or the city.

“How long to go to there?” He asked, hoping to sound casually curious.

“Depends how you go,” Tracy said with a little shrug. “The train is a few hours. Getting a plane is faster.”

Yuzuru looked back at the map, finger still hovering over the city.

“You think I can go there after training and come back in evening?”

“You wouldn’t have a lot of time there if you did.” Tracy moved closer, coming beside him, tilting her head to look at him curiously. “And you’d be very tired.”

Yuzuru deflated, dropping his hand from the map down to his side. “Oh.”

“Why do you want to go to Montreal?”

“Shoma is there,” he said shortly. “I want to see him.”

Tracy smiled in the warm, motherly way she did when she was encouraging or trying to be helpful. “You could go at the weekend.”

Yuzuru shook his head. “He leave on Friday.”

Truthfully, Yuzuru was the tiniest bit frustrated. He maybe could have arranged something, organised to get himself to Montreal and stay there for at least a day while Shoma was there so they could spend at least an afternoon together. Except Shoma had forgotten he was going to Montreal until the day before his flight.  


‘ _I honestly thought I was going straight to Chicago?_ ’ Shoma had said to him in a string of messaged where he seemed rather exasperated with himself. ‘ _Mom swears she and Mihoko told me that we’d go to Montreal first, but it’s just for a few days, and I’m always just going wherever…_ ’

 

It was at least a bit funny that Shoma’s general lack of interest in where he goes to compete or perform or train had him just floating from place to place with only the slightest idea of where he was and where he was going. Yuzuru knew this was fairly typical of him, but that didn’t stop him from venting his frustrations to Ryuju, who could at least see Shoma around Nagoya at some point to pass on the light roasting he deserved.

Yuzuru gave a resigned sigh, and Tracy hummed about how it was a pity Shoma would leave so soon. He wasn’t really angry at Shoma’s air-headedness, but the disappointment prickled under Yuzuru’s skin. An opportunity to see each other after weeks of being apart was so close, but not quite there.  


“I wouldn’t know what to do anyway,” Yuzuru lamented without really thinking. “I don’t know Montreal. And. I never plan a date before.”

Tracy chuckled at him. Yuzuru knew what was coming before she even said anything.

“Yuzu, you should know, in English we don’t usually say ‘date’ when we’re talking about meeting friends-”

“I know.”

“Oh.” Tracy blinked, her smile frozen in place. “Well.”  


Yuzuru felt his cheeks heat up and a slow curl of regret low in his belly. He wasn't ashamed, but it felt as if he was oversharing. Giving too much away to someone he shouldn't be so personal with. But Tracy was familiar. A bit too easy to talk to. His eyes bore into the spot of the map where Montreal was marked. The idea that he was being rude, talking to Tracy but not looking at her, itched at the back of his head but he couldn’t look at her right now. He was afraid of what he’d see in her expression.

He trusted her. It just was awkward; to have spoken so carelessly. Yuzuru knew that she had understood what he had let slip. That it wasn't just poor phrasing from bad English. Bracing for her response - for the possibility of a negative response - was an involuntary and irrational impulse. More than fearing rejection, since he at least had the sense to know that was unlikely, he worried she would think it was poor judgment to date a competitor. Particularly since Shoma was his primary home-rival. Because he wasn't entirely sure how to argue against that point other than something purely emotional. He just wanted to. He just liked Shoma. It just felt good. 

She touched his shoulder lightly, giving a reassuring little pat. Yuzuru tore his eyes away from the wall and turned towards her. Her expression was something familiar. Any surprise had been fleeting. If she had any judgement, it wasn’t visible. It was just the look Tracy always had when they talked, and she was considering how to advise him. Calm, caring, thoughtful.

“Maybe we can rearrange your schedule?” She suggested.

Yuzuru chewed his lip, uncertain. It wasn’t as if Shoma was going to Montreal for a holiday - he was going to train. “We agree skating comes first. No messing up training.”

Tracy's expression became more questioning, lips thinned and eyes narrowed.

“Not even missing one practice day?”

“Don’t want to get habit of slacking off to have date,” Yuzuru explained with a shake of his head. “Don’t want to make a reason to break up.”

“I see," Tracy said, seemingly pleased with that response, though it maybe wasn't what she was expecting to hear. “You must be serious about him.”

Yuzuru looked away, cheeks growing pink. “I am.”

That was a confession he hadn't expected to make, but there it was. Possibly the most information about his personal life he had ever revealed. Not that there was ever really much to tell. Before now.

Yuzuru whined and let his forehead come to rest against the wall. "Why he doesn’t come to Toronto? Why so close but so far away?”

“At least you're in the same time zone,” Tracy supplied. “Much easier to talk on the phone or something.”

Yuzuru groaned. He knew that she was right, and nothing had changed - they had prepared for Shoma to just be in Chicago, and to take advantage of the similar time zones to at least be in contact more easily than they could be later. When Shoma would be back in Japan and they would both be travelling in opposite directions for competitions.

“Is he going back to Japan on Friday?” Tracy asked as if they were having any other kind of conversation. Like it was something trivial, like the weather.

Yuzuru shook his head. “No. Chicago.”

“Then you have loads of time in the same kind of time zone. You can talk a lot more than when he’s in Japan.”Tracy spoke so brightly that Yuzuru didn't have the heart to tell her she was stating the obvious. She was, at least, reminding him that while it was frustrating to be so close but unable to visit each other, there were still positives.

“Yeah.” Yuzuru let out a long, heavy breath. “I’m not going to see him for so long. It’s so sad.”

“There might be other chances.”

Yuzuru sulked. He knew that, unless Shoma had forgotten about another trip to Canada - while Yuzuru was actually there and not in Russia - there would be no more chances. He looked at Tracy glumly.

“I don’t see him until December.”

“Well, it will just be very special when you do see him.”

Yuzuru shrugged.  “I guess.”

“And if he comes to visit you in Toronto, I’m sure we can arrange something, so it doesn’t mess with his training too much.” She smiled warmly.  


Yuzuru smiled back. It was amusing, just how much Tracy took on a motherly kind of role for him. Maybe she had just been around enough, been an actual parent for long enough, been a coach enough to have seen and heard it all. Maybe these kinds of things just weren’t important to her.  
She had been the one to guide Yuzuru back after his injury  - when he had been almost like a beginner on the ice she had built him back up. She was the one who soothed him when he had been frustrated and disheartened.

Yuzuru had thought for a while that perhaps he might need to tell his coaches about his relationship with Shoma. Something Brian had said once bubbled up from the depths of Yuzuru’s memory from time to time. ‘ _We can protect you’._ It was true. His coaches could protect him. But he would have to tell them in plain terms what it was they needed to help him hide.

It was a relief, but it was not a shock, that Tracy’s response was essentially nothing. Yuzuru wondered if Brian’s would be the same, given that he was aware of much more than Tracy - or at least, as far as Yuzuru knew.  


Her open invitation to accommodate Shoma should he ever visit Toronto was what really tickled Yuzuru. It was exactly the sort of thing his parents had done when he had shyly told them just a few weeks ago, once the more serious conversation was done. He had laughed about it with Shoma; how their mothers had each done the same thing - made similar hasty suggestions that, at some point, one should visit the other for a weekend.

Shoma had been about as overwhelmed as Yuzuru was when they talked about it. Yuzuru might have been aware that his mother wasn’t exactly ignorant to what was going on with her son, but it was a big thing to actually sit his family down. Get it out in the open. Explain it wouldn’t change. Reveal that he was dating someone they knew.

Yuzuru was lucky. Far luckier than others. Shoma had been lucky too.

Yuzuru only wished everyone could be as lucky as them.

 

“I’m glad. That your parents are okay.” Shoma had squeezed his hand. “Do you feel better, now they know?”

“Yeah.” It was like a weight had been lifted. Yuzuru loved his family, was always grateful for them. But he felt that love increase tenfold when faced with the way they accepted one of the hardest things for a family to hear. “I maybe wouldn't have told them. If it wasn’t for you.”

Shoma had been flustered at that, shy, buried his face in Yuzuru’s neck.

“We should do it. Sometime. You coming to stay with me in Sendai. Or me spending a weekend at your house,” Yuzuru spoke into Shoma’s hair, arms wrapped around his shoulders. “I don’t want to only see each other at competition and shows.”

Shoma had nodded silently.

“Maybe after Nationals?” Yuzuru suggested. He sometimes lingered in Japan after Nationals for a week or so. Something could be arranged.

“For New Year?” Shoma’s head popped up off Yuzuru’s shoulder. “I’d like that.”

Tracy’s little suggestion had Yuzuru thinking. Maybe they could have more opportunities. Just. Probably not _this_ year.    


***  


At least it was easy enough to keep in touch while Shoma was in Chicago. Little messages when they woke up saying ' _good morning_ ' . Regular check-ins after practices. Video calls in the evenings when they were both free. Nothing overbearing, but taking advantage of being in close enough places while they could, when they weren't too tired or busy. It would just be a few weeks. After that, video calls would be difficult to arrange and messages would be answered with hours of delay. Conversations limited to the windows of time when they’d both be awake. When the sun rose for one of them, it would set for another. But at least they’d be under the same sky. And for a while they were a little bit closer.

Yuzuru liked the little messages they exchanged between them after practices. Shoma didn’t finish when he did but took a short break as Yuzuru was driven home by whoever was able to give him a ride at the time. Yuzuru leaned his head against the window, watching the trees go by between messages, humming under his breath along with the radio.  


‘ _How come I can get an okay-ish edge on a triple but if I try a quad the outside edge just doesn’t want to be there?_ ’ Shoma complained. It was easy to picture the disgruntled expression. Yuzuru smirked a bit. Shoma was maybe being a little bit generous in saying his triple was okay. Barely scraping by passable half the time was more like it.

‘ _Remember how you said my flip sucks? Your lutz sucks harder <(￣＾￣)> _’ Yuzuru sent back.

‘ _Mean_ ,’ Shoma typed. Yuzuru could imagine him sulking. ‘ _But fair. I was hoping that maybe training a quad would make the triple easier._ ’

Yuzuru smiled. ‘ _It might_ .’  


It still felt novel, somehow. To just talk. About nothing in particular. About training, about university. There were some overlaps in their courses. Yuzuru liked helping Shoma remember anatomy, or hearing what he was interested in; which future modules he was looking forward to once the Olympics were over and they returned to their studies. Shoma didn’t deal with as much math as Yuzuru. When Yuzuru had showed him his notes, Shoma had made a soft, pained kind of sound.

“Looking at that gives me a headache.”

“Can you tell what this is?” Yuzuru had asked with a grin, peaking around his notebook.

“No?” Shoma shook his head, squinting. “I can barely read it.”

Yuzuru decided not to find out if that was due to Shoma’s lack of interest in math or a jab at his penmanship. The example hadn’t, strictly speaking, been for his course. Just a little exercise for Yuzuru to test he had understood the theory. A practical application to Yuzuru’s life.   
“It’s a quad toe.”

It was fun, to watch on the grainy screen Shoma’s expression change from bemusement to an odd kind of wonder.

“Seriously?”

Yuzuru nodded and spent about ten minutes trying to talk Shoma through the equation, the force, the speed, the momentum to get up in the air and make the rotations, the force of impact upon landing and all the variables. Shoma groaned and lay his head down on his desk. Yuzuru couldn’t see him as he slipped out of frame, but he heard a soft thunk.

Shoma lifted his head back up, looking worried. “Am I going to have to do that kind of thing in my biomechanics module?”

Yuzuru shrugged. “I don’t know. But if it comes up I’ll help you. If you want.”

“I’m glad my boyfriend is a nerd.” Shoma grinned cheekily. Yuzuru flushed, hiding his smile behind his hand. Shoma had never called him that before.It made his heart jump to hear it. Boyfriend. His cheeks ached.

 

It might have been the first time Yuzuru had heard Shoma call him that, but it became clear that it wasn’t the first time Shoma had said it. It was just a few days later, the next time they were both free enough to video call. There had been messages in between. Little complaints, quick jokes, the occasional brag. It was good to see Shoma’s face again. Listening to Shoma talk made Yuzuru feel oddly weighted and whole. Comfortable. He cupped a mug of tea in his hands, enjoying the warmed that seeped into his skin even if it was summer and not exactly cold.

Shoma looked up, turned his head sharply to the left and frowned. Yuzuru had heard it vaguely in the background - the door opening and clattering shut.

“Hey, wanna come play with us?” A disembodied voice. Yuzuru tilted his head to try to figure out who it was. Familiar, but not familiar enough for Yuzuru to immediately recognise.

Shoma quickly glanced back at his screen, then to whoever had come in the room.  “Uh, later.”

“Who are you talking to? Is it your boyfriend?” Another voice. A different one. Yuzuru could guess just from the tone. Only brothers teased quite like that. He used to do it to his sister all the time.

“Sorry,” Shoma muttered to Yuzuru before looking back at Itsuki, who was apparently moving closer judging from the way Shoma’s eyes shifted to track him.  “Go away.”

Itsuki’s face popped into the frame, breaking out into grin. “It is! Hi!”

“Hi, Yuzuru.” Shoma’s training mate, Kotaro, sat on the bed behind Shoma. Yuzuru just about recognised him. Shoma talked about him a lot.

Yuzuru smile pleasantly, watching as Itsuki flopped down next to Kotaro. They both looked relaxed, not awkward. It put him at ease.   
“Hi. How’s Chicago?”

Shoma sighed and gave him a look. Kotaro shrugged.

“It’s not bad.”

Yuzuru ignored Shoma’s little, subtle, nonverbal urges to not talk to them. He’d probably get teased for this later, being caught mid-call. Yuzuru got a little kick out of being in on it, part of it., So long as the teasing was good-natured and gentle. He raised his voice a little, craning his neck as if he was actually talking over Shoma’s head.  
“You’re getting coached by Alex too, right?”

Kotaro nodded. “Yeah, It’s good. It’s pretty fun. Tiring.”

“Has Shoma done anything other than train yet?”

Shoma scowled at him. “Hey!”

Itsuki shook his head. Yuzuru couldn’t see if he was rolling his eyes but he got that kind of attitude out of his tone.   
“No. We go sightseeing and golfing while he’s training. And he’s a loser shut up in his room while we go out and do things.”

Shoma turned his head back towards them. “I go out to eat. Shut up you.” He sniffed as he turned back to face Yuzuru. “We’re gonna go around the city next week.”

“Only because some cameras are coming for you and they can’t make an hour documentary of you sitting on your bed playing games on your phone,” Itsuki quipped, much to Shoma’s annoyance, judging from the way he rolled his eyes and turned back to his brother.

“Go and play your game.” He turned back to Yuzuru and softened. “Ignore them. They’ll leave eventually.

“It’s fine. I don’t mind.” Honestly, it was pretty amusing to see Shoma relaxed and interacting with other people. Yuzuru saw him with Keiji and other people he was friendly with; Sota before he got injured, Kanako, Mao. But often it was Shoma at competition, with people he was a little less comfortable with. “You’re gonna have a feature?”

Shoma shrugged. “I’m doing a few tv things, so the Olympics crowd don’t think ‘who the hell is he?’ if I make the team.”  


Yuzuru nodded. He doubted people who even casually followed the sport managed to have no idea who Shoma was, but he knew that whoever was handling Shoma’s PR would want a few fluff pieces out there to get more people rooting for him. It wasn’t really something that concerned them much as athletes, but sponsors certainly liked it. And it felt good to know people were behind you, wanting you to do well, sympathetic to your dreams.  


Itsuki leaned forward, grinning. “You should watch it. They’re using loads of baby videos. Saves me digging out stuff to embarrass him with whenever you come to our place.”

“Really? I have to watch it then.”

Shoma closed his eyes, sighing. “Don’t.”

Yuzuru picked up the mug of tea on his desk, primed to take a sip. He blew on it, out of habit. It wasn’t even hot anymore. “I bet you were beyond cute as a baby.”

  
He remembered Shoma when he was younger, in juniors. Little, round-faced and painfully shy. In so many ways, Shoma had changed a lot. He was more confident now, more handsome, cooler when he skated or showed a slow curl of a smile. But it other ways he was still the same - like now, scrunching his face up not sure whether he was pleased or embarrassed. Or whenever he wandered around looking perpetually lost or sleepy. Or the way he laughed with his nose wrinkling, the way he tilted his head whenever he stopped to think of how to respond to something.

Kotaro whispered something to Itsuki that caused a small fit of giggles. Whatever was said, and whatever Itsuki’s response had been, it included the who of them making kissy-faces towards Shoma’s back. Yuzuru bit his lip to stop from laughing. Brats. He was tempted to tell them to stop being mean, but that would lend itself to even more teasing later.

Shoma thinned his lips, not even bothering to look back at the two of them “You know I can see you on my screen, right?”

The only response Shoma got was more cackling.

“If the screen goes black for a second it’s because I don’t want to make you an accessory to murder,” he deadpanned. Yuzuru laughed.

“Fine, fine. We’ll stop messing with you,” Kotaro said, standing up and tugging at Itsuki’s arm. “Come on.”

Just before the exited the frame, Itsuki shot Shoma a deceptively sweet smile. “If you’re going to do anything dirty you should lock your door.”

Yuzuru choked. Trying to drink anything had been a mistake.

Shoma had turned beet-red, but at least attempted to glare at his brother. “It’s going to be real fun beating your ass later.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Itsuki called out, out of frame and exiting the room. Yuzuru’s mind was buzzing. Shoma closed his eyes. Yuzuru could practically see the apology bursting to get out. As if Shoma controlled Itsuki’s mouth. As if being a pain and teasing wasn’t a little brother’s _job_.

Yuzuru saved his grin for when Shoma’s eyes reopened.

“I’m so happy _I’m_ the younger sibling.”

***

That stretch of time was blissful; the weeks where Shoma was in Chicago, and their days were spent training, studying, playing games and sporadically talking in some form. There was a little lapse while Shoma had media with him, but Yuzuru was satisfied with a little good morning greeting or a sweet, good night. Knowing that some space was necessary, and understanding that entertaining media was draining did not mean Yuzuru wasn’t somewhat delighted, though, when he picked up his phone and saw Shoma had sent him a picture.

Or, at least, a picture of Shoma had been sent to him.

‘ _Shoma’s password is stupidly easy to guess_ ,’ was the message that came with it. Yuzuru snorted. It could have been Kotaro or Itsuki, or both of them. The picture was a sweet one. Shoma, presumably after practice, sleeping at what looked like a cafe. His cheek was squished against the side of the large chair he had curled up on, dark lashes fanned out prettily in contrast to his cheek, lips parted, hair fluffy and oddly parted like he hadn’t even bothered to pat it down after skating.

It was just over an hour later when Shoma had, apparently, woken up and saw what the hacker had done.  


‘ _Itsuki is such a pain in the ass_ ,’ Shoma complained. Yuzuru grinned. He liked the way Shoma subtly tried to convey tone through messages in little shifts of word construction or punctuation or the occasional slip into dialect at the same kind of points he would use it when he spoke. Yuzuru didn’t really have the patience to try to capture inflections and nuances into text the way Shoma did, so spammed with emoticons and excessive tildes. Shoma thought that was too cutesy.

The next message, Yuzuru read as an indignant whine. ‘ _He always takes pictures when I fall asleep in public instead of just waking me up_ .’  


‘ _At least you look cute in it_ ,’ Yuzuru sent back, not that it placated Shoma much. ‘ _I’d prefer pictures that were sent to me with your permission, though_.’

It’s not like Shoma was against taking photographs. He was happy enough to pose quickly with other skaters at competitions, or fans whenever the opportunity arose, friends whenever someone was in the mood. Press photos were awkward but that was true for most people, and Shoma wasn’t one of those people who enjoyed selfies, but he took enough that Yuzuru was a bit bummed he hadn’t gotten any before now. It wasn’t like they hadn’t sent pictures to each other last year.

That was different, Shoma had argued. They had specified what to send and it had just to be friendly.

‘ _Oh, Shoma. It had been to flirt_ ,’ Yuzuru pointed out.

Maybe he hadn’t realised it at the time but it wasn’t just bragging about competitions. They checked in on each other, shared their progress, and no matter where they were or what time it was or who they were with the took a moment to contact each other. That was a kind of flirting. Maybe. Shoma wasn’t exactly convinced but he understood the sentiment and struck a deal - he’d send dumb pictures more often, but Yuzuru had to send some in return. Which was fair.

So rather than just messages after practices, now they sent pictures. The occasional video. Shoma sent a clip of some stupid combination he tried out ‘ _since you think showing off is flirting ;)_ ’ which just fed Yuzuru’s need to one-up him and retaliate with a clip of his own. Jumps weren’t only sent to each other for bragging rights, but also just for feedback, to celebrate a success, or to joke about a failure. It meant when Shoma had tried a lutz, they could joke about the errors there. And when Yuzuru landed a quad axel - without a harness, fully rotated, without two-footing the landing - Shoma called him to excitedly yell about him being crazy.  


Shoma even let Itsuki send some less flattering things. Like him in dance class, struggling on the barre because he couldn’t get his leg up in the right position. That punctuated his complaints about ballet, which Yuzuru could sympathise with. Not that his own struggles with ballet stopped him from answering Shoma’s photo with one of his own, on barre, leg raised in the arabesque position Shoma had been aiming for.

‘ _You’re so annoying!!_ ’ Shoma whined. ‘ _How come I look like I’m being tortured and you look like that?_ ’

‘ _Your legs are short_ ,’ Yuzuru answered honestly. ‘ _And you have more muscle than me_.’

Shoma sulked about it until Yuzuru showed him the out-take: a short video of him trying to hold the position with his leg as high as he could get it, losing his balance, and nearly headbutting the bar with his teacher ungraciously snorting in the background. They would both improve over time, but the process was just as important as the end result. The ballet would help their carriage and movement on the ice. The other classes Shoma took, which frequently caused Mihoko to giggle at him, were something Yuzuru had also done and been moderately awful at, but they helped with timing. They didn’t really need to be good at dancing for the classes to translate into their skating.

One of the best things they tried was just before their daily contact would come to its inevitable end, on Yuzuru’s last rest day before he opened his training to the media. The skies were clear and the sun was bright, so they made a date of it. Shoma found a park near his hotel where he could walk around, and Yuzuru headed out to one near his house where no one would disturb him. It probably looked strange, to others, for the two of them to walk around with their phones held out at arm’s length but for Yuzuru it was almost perfect. The only thing that would make it better was actually being in the same place, but it felt close enough. In some ways Yuzuru was still sharing a little piece of his world with Shoma that didn’t revolve around skating; that wasn’t tied to a rink or a dance studio, a competition or an ice show. Maybe the conversation strayed in that direction from time to time, but Shoma told Yuzuru about his university campus, admitted he didn’t really do walking for pleasure ever at all but did have a park he liked to jog around sometimes. Yuzuru pointed out things that caught his eye - the flowers that clustered under a tree, a bird hopping on the grass. Little things like that helped Yuzuru’s mind quiet when he got stressed.

Shoma made a soft sound, his eyes focusing on something away from his phone.   
“There’s a really cute dog...” He explained softly. And suddenly he was off, phone conspicuously lowered, so Yuzuru was only really looking at the neckline of his t-shirt for a while. Yuzuru heard the broken English - “I can play your puppy?” And then Shoma’s face was back, now joined by an excited labrador puppy that looked so tiny it could have been it’s first trip to the park.

Shoma giggled as the puppy licked at his cheek and Yuzuru felt a strong kick of an indescribable feeling. Something that didn’t swell in his chest so much as explode within him, making it hard to breathe. The mix of affection and joy and longing bubbled inside of him while Shoma said his thanks to the owner and a rather forlorn goodbye to the puppy.

They ended up each sitting on a bench in their own respective places. Yuzuru enjoyed that moment of just sitting and swinging his legs, seeing Shoma on his screen doing the same thing while he fumbled one-handed with an ice cream. It was kind of funny to have a date while not even being in the same city, but it was nice to know that they could.

Yuzuru looked up to see the way the way the sun illuminated the leaves above him and smiled.  


***  


Yuzuru hadn’t realised quite how much he had missed Javier being around until he came back. Really, day to day, they didn’t typically share the ice as much as they once had, so it didn’t feel incredibly off to go a few weeks without seeing Javier. But the practice sessions they did typically share felt like something was missing without Javier there. There was a little less laughter. The rink seemed colder without him there. It felt a bit weird to go through stroking class without Javier beside him, almost perfectly in sync with Yuzuru. With Junhwan struggling through injuries too, practices were quieter.

Maybe it hadn’t been so hard to get through his absence because, at least this time, Yuzuru knew that he would come back. That the moment would come when Javier would walk into practice five minutes late and everything would feel normal again. The hole would be filled. Maybe next summer that void would be there again, but there would be no comfort in knowing Javier was going to come back. Maybe next summer would be harder.

Still, when Yuzuru walked into the rink and saw Javier there, the amount of relief and happiness he felt just seeing Javier was more than Yuzuru had anticipated. There was also a twinge of fear, or something closer to remorse than regret. They had left things in an awkward place. Javier might not be as happy to see Yuzuru as Yuzuru was to see him. 

Javier stood next to Brian, listening to him with his jaw set and eyes unblinking. Something was different. Maybe it was just the hint of a tan he had, or he’d lost a little bit of weight while getting into optimum condition for the Olympic season, or maybe it was just the light streaming in from the windows was favourable. He was terribly handsome. Just standing there like that. Yuzuru felt ashamed to think it, but he couldn’t ignore the way his black t-shirt clung tight to his body or the sharp line of his jaw. A rude reminder of why it had been too easy to find Javier so attractive, to fall for him so fast and be so infatuated for so long. Even if the feelings were fading, all the elements Yuzuru had been attracted to were still all there. His handsomeness, the broad lines of a body Yuzuru had just felt so _right_ leaning into. Javier said something that made Brian laugh, and there was all the other things that had drawn Yuzuru in; his humour, his friendly nature, the sparkle in his eye, the curl of his smile, the way he made everyone feel at ease whenever he was around.

Yuzuru looked away to put down his drink and jacket. When he looked up again, Javier smiled at him. A good sign. Yuzuru stopped hovering and bounded towards the ice.

“You’re back!” Yuzuru beamed. “How was vacation?”

“It was good,” Javier replied with a nod. Out of the corner of his eyes, Yuzuru noticed Brian subtly back away to give them some space. Allowing them a brief moment to reconnect. “When are you going to Japan?”

“After media leaves,’ Yuzuru said simply. He’d have a few days to get himself together, and then he’s be off. He wouldn’t be in Japan for long - just enough time to meet some of his obligations for his sponsors, a little project for television and coach a class of kids. Nothing that would interrupt his training in any significant way. But it seemed typical that he would leave right as Javier returned.

“Media comes tomorrow right?” Javier asked, mouth scrunching a little and Yuzuru’s short nod. “We’re not gonna have much chance to talk after today then.”

“Maybe not.” Yuzuru fought the urge to look away. The cold, unpleasant feeling returned to the pit of his stomach. If there was something Javier wanted to hear, he wasn’t going to get it. If Javier wanted an answer any different to the one Yuzuru had already given, he would only be disappointed. Because the only thing Yuzuru could tell him was that he was falling more for Shoma, being more convinced that their relationship could work, even less willing to give it up.

Javier tilted his head. “Can we go somewhere after practice?”

“Sure.” Yuzuru bobbed his head, shifting his weight onto his back foot, ready to draw there short conversation to a close and start skating. He hesitated, meeting Javier’s eyes with an unsure smile. “I’m happy you’re back. You look better.” Javier blinked, Yuzuru hastily clarified. “Less tired.”

Javier smiled. “The sun did me good.”

***

Yuzuru Didn’t bother looking at the menu as they waited in line. They had been here before. He already knew what he wanted. The shop was close enough to the club that popping in for a drink after training wasn’t much of an excursion, but far away enough that any lingering fans that sometimes loitered around the club wouldn’t be around to disturb them.

It had been a while since they had gone together, but it had never been something they had done frequently anyway - just a few times. Before Yuzuru always had excuses whenever Javier offered. Before Javier had given up on asking.  


“Do you know what you’re getting?” Javier asked, looking at the list of items on the wall.

“Strawberry.”

Javier laughed. “You always get strawberry.”

 

It was almost funny to hear Javier say that.  As if the last time they went for a smoothie after practice wasn’t years ago. As if it was something they had done with any kind of regularity. But Yuzuru did tend to pick one thing he knew he liked over and over again, while Javier was more the type to try whatever appealed to him depending on his mood.

“I’m still deciding,” Javier gestured for Yuzuru to go ahead of him. “You order yours first.”

“I thought we were ordering together.” Yuzuru sulked. Whenever they had gone out together, Javier graciously spared Yuzuru the awkwardness of ordering what he wanted. It wasn’t hard or outside of Yuzuru’s ability, but speaking in English to strangers still made Yuzuru nervous. Though he supposed there were no errors to be made in saying one word.

“You’re a big boy now, you can pay for yourself,” Javier joked, flashing Yuzuru a smile. Yuzuru suppressed a frown. Even the most recent times they had gone to a cafe to talk, Javier had insisted on paying for Yuzuru no matter how much Yuzuru offered to return the favour. When Yuzuru had been a teenager, he had liked the feeling of Javier doting upon him. Up to now he’d always just assumed that’s what Javier liked to do for friends, treat them when he could. Maybe he had been wrong about that. Maybe he had misread Javier’s generosity the whole time. Or maybe Yuzuru just wasn’t a friend Javier wanted to treat anymore.

It wasn’t a problem, but it flooded Yuzuru’s mind with questions. Javier had complained that Yuzuru had led him on - was something as small as accepting a drink been enough to give Javier that impression? Yuzuru knew he was guilty of far more than just that, but little details like that bothered him. How deeply did the mistakes in their relationship run?  


There was a moment of silence once they had their drinks and sat down. It was habit for Yuzuru to choose tables furthest away from the window, in some corner that wouldn’t be seen easily from the entrance. He leaned against the wall and slurped at his drink. They had used up their small-talk in practice. They’d hadn’t talked much, just enough to rebuild some rapport. Now they were sat down across from each other; they just felt awkward. Yuzuru didn’t know what to say.  


“So,” Javier started. “How have you been?”

“Okay.” Yuzuru shrugged. “Just normal. I almost finish studying before I take break, so busy. But. Like always.” Yuzuru put down his drink, eyes turning soft as he focused on Javier completely. “Are you feeling any better?”

Javier nodded. “I am.”

“Good.”

They lapsed into silence again. Javier’s lips thinned as if he had something he wanted to say but wasn’t sure how to broach the subject. He cleared his throat.

“When you told me you wanted to give Shoma a chance I didn’t really understand how you felt.” Yuzuru froze. Javier’s eyes flickered down towards the table. “I think I do now.”

“Oh?”

“I...met someone,” Javier said tentatively.  “Someone _I_ want to give a chance.”

Yuzuru almost felt foolish for not expecting something like that. “You met her in Spain?”

Javier nodded mutely. Yuzuru could feel his face twisting into an involuntary grimace. Of course, he had met a woman while he was at home. That was exactly the sort of thing Javier would do.

Before Yuzuru had been reminded of why he wanted Javier, why that crush had developed the way it had and why it was so hard to shake. It was probably a good thing to get a reminder of why they wouldn’t work just as swiftly. When things got hard, Javier went back to what made him comfortable. What made him comfortable wasn’t Yuzuru.  


Yuzuru let out a breath, purposefully relaxing his face. “So. You date her while you’re at home?”

Yuzuru must not have done a good job at looking neutral because Javier seemed tense.  
“I guess? We started seeing each other. It’s not really serious yet.”  


Yuzuru clenched his teeth, trying to smother the bubble of frustration behind something he hoped was close to a nonchalant smile. It grated him, just a little, that barely a month ago Javier promised him they could date properly, tell family, that it could be something serious enough for Javier to change long-term plans. It had taken him just weeks to throw those promises away.

Yuzuru usually did his best not to entertain spite, but remembering Javier’s response when their roles were reversed added to his annoyance.

“You sleep with her?”  


Javier’s response was almost comical. The way he blinked and pulled back, eyebrows raising sharply before quickly shooting back down into a somewhat confused frown. The puzzled way Javier raised a hand as if to gesture ‘why would you say that?’ was satisfying, in some small way.

“You asked me same thing,” Yuzuru sulked. Javier deserved to have some of what was said thrown back at him, to feel how it felt to have that kind of question asked, to feel that kind of humiliation from being asked something so personal in such a judgemental way.

Shame forced Javier to slump, frown melting. “That was stupid of me.”

“You got so mad thinking I sleep with other guys. I didn’t. You got upset thinking I sleep with Shoma. I haven’t.” Yuzuru scowled. “But you go to next person so fast...”

Javier stared at Yuzuru, faltering. “Are you mad at me?”

Yuzuru sighed. “No.”

He wasn’t. Not really. There was a huge degree of relief that was slowly making itself known the more Yuzuru had time to process. Javier had someone else, so Yuzuru didn’t have to feel so guilty about rejecting him. But the irritation, the bitter irony of Javier insisting he was ready to let go of his hang-ups and commit to Yuzuru, only to go and do the exact thing that had caused problems in the first place - leaping into a relationship with a woman the first chance he got because something with Yuzuru made him uncomfortable - was a lot more assertive than the scrap of consolation that it at least left Yuzuru free to see Shoma.  


“Did you expect me to wait for you to make up your mind?” Javier asked, clearly not believing that Yuzuru wasn’t angry, his tone defensive. “Yuzu, you already had.”

Yuzuru said nothing, petulantly jabbing his straw around his smoothie, stabbing at the lumps of fruit. It wasn’t that Yuzuru had wanted him to wait. Or maybe it was. He didn’t know. He just hadn’t expected for Javier to give up so easily.

Javier pressed him. “Did you expect me to wait for you as long as you waited for me?”

“I never wait for you,” Yuzuru said, looking up at Javier sharply. “I never meant to wait for you.”

Javier’s shoulders dropped, head tilting inquisitively. He just wanted to understand.   
“Then why are you still going so slow with Shoma?”

Yuzuru shrugged. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. He resumed stabbing at his drink with his straw. “It felt unfair. To Shoma. And to you.”

Javier hesitated, leaning forward, waiting until Yuzuru looked back up at him. His eyes were genuinely concerned. “You think I’m being unfair to you?”

“Maybe.” Yuzuru shrugged again. “You promised so many things. Said all the things I wanted to hear. But you never would have-” He looked away. It hurt a little, but mostly it was outrageously frustrating. “You just go find a girlfriend straight away.”

“I meant everything I said,” Javier told him firmly. “I would have waited if I thought there was anything to wait for. But you already made your decision.” 

Javier let out a heavy breath and tightened his hand around his cup. He’d bought mango, even though every time he got mango he complained about it being too sweet. It was typically, stupidly, Javier to repeatedly forget that something wasn’t right for him, try it over and over again only to have to throw it away unfinished every time because it wasn’t to his taste.

Yuzuru met his eyes and Javier let out a heavy sigh.  
“You wanted to move on. I’m trying to let you do that. I have to try to move on too.” 

Yuzuru paused. He considered what Javier’s perspective must’ve been, for them to reach this place. It didn’t matter how much Yuzuru had tried to soften him turning Javier down. It didn’t matter how much he had dithered and tried to keep the possibility of choosing Javier open by even the smallest amount because Javier had seen the door being slammed shut instead. There was nothing to stop him from looking for someone else, and for all Yuzuru knew that was the healthier response than trying to fight.

  
“What if you can’t?” Yuzuru asked quietly. It was another thing Javier had asked him,  but this time he wasn’t spitefully throwing Javier’s words back at him. He just needed to know.

Javier let out a sad huff of laughter. He had asked himself that question more than once.

“I’m not going to do what I did with Miki again,” he said flatly.  “I just. I want to give her a chance. I want to give _us_ a chance to just be friends. But if that can’t happen I’ll do the right thing and leave her.”  


Yuzuru was taken aback at how harsh that seemed. For a moment, he felt sorry for this girl Javier was apparently okay to use and discard if she couldn’t chase away whatever feeling he had left for Yuzuru. It seemed wrong, strange, grossly out-of -character. Javier had been eaten up by the guilt of having feelings for Yuzuru while he was with Miki, but he hadn’t really been aware of the depth of what he felt at the time. Or was at least in denial. Now he seemed to be walking into a relationship knowing he might not be able to give himself emotionally, prepared to end it at whatever point he decides he had put in enough time to expect some kind of change. Maybe in some ways, Yuzuru had done the same by accepting Shoma’s feelings without knowing if he could return them. But he hadn’t been trying to restart his relationship with Javier. He wasn’t holding on to some hope that Javier would come back to him.

The lack of logic gave Yuzuru a headache.

“I don’t think it’s good to date someone just to try to forget someone else.”

“That’s not why--” Javier stuttered awkwardly. “I’m happier. When I’m with her.” Javier’s eyes turned soft, slightly unfocused. Thinking about her. “When she smiles, I smile. I needed that.”  


It was incredible how just a few words could completely change Yuzuru’s perspective. Perhaps Javier wasn’t being quite so callous after all. He was just honestly trying to find something that might work for both of them. Just seeking some way to be happy.

It was still frustrating, and in some ways very sad that Javier had given up and had chosen to let Yuzuru go so quickly. But Yuzuru could still see the possible intent behind that. Holding on for too long hadn’t exactly helped either of them, and it hadn’t helped their friendship.

Maybe they were just not meant to be happy together. Maybe they were only ever meant to make each other better, to learn from each other so they could be love other people the way they should have loved each other.

“I hope..You will be. Happy. With her.” Yuzuru hoped Javier knew he was being sincere.  “I hope this time it’s different.”

It could be different. Maybe the problem before had been the not knowing. Yuzuru not knowing how Javier had felt, if it had all been some huge misunderstanding, and not being able to let go because of that. Javier, not knowing what he did wrong, why Yuzuru was so wounded and pulling away and slowly realising why he cared so much.

Javier slurped his drink, making a face at the flavour. Yuzuru snorted and sucked on his own straw, humming in exaggerated delight at just how nice his drink was. Javier rolled his eyes, but relaxed, propping his elbows on the table.

“Maybe we should think about how we’re going to deal with each other now?” Javier suggested.

Yuzuru nodded, slowly lifting his mouth off his straw, licking his lip to catch any stray liquid. “I don’t want things to be weird.”

“Maybe we should give each other some rules?” Javier averted his eyes almost shyly. “I don’t always know when I’m doing something wrong with you.”

Yuzuru furrowed his brows, trying to think of anything Javier could possibly do to make the transition smoother. “I think…You should be more careful. When you touch-”

“I know that one,” Javier laughed. “You’ve told me before.”

“Maybe you don’t know what I mean?” Yuzuru huffed. He had told Javier to be more careful a number of times but that didn’t mean he had stopped crossing the line. “You touch all friends a lot and that’s okay. It’s nothing. But--” Yuzuru flustered, struggling to find the right words. “Holding my hand. Touching my face. It’s too much. Sometimes you get too close.”

Javier nodded. “Okay.”

“And. Sometimes you put your hands here?” Yuzuru gestured at his waist, his hips, flushing. Maybe specifics would help, even if it was embarrassing to admit what even the simplest and smallest of things could do to him. Not that Yuzuru was convinced Javier didn’t have some idea what he was doing. “You should stop that. It’s too...uhh...”

“I get it. It’s okay,” Javier said quickly, biting his lip as if to stop himself from laughing. 

“What should I change?” Yuzuru asked, leaning his head down to take his straw back between his lips. Something flashed in Javier’s eyes when Yuzuru sucked to get a lump of strawberry unstuck. Yuzuru swallowed quickly and let the straw go, ready to reprimand Javier for being dirty.

“I don’t think there’s any small thing,” Javier said quickly before Yuzuru could say anything. “If I ask you to stop doing things that make me remember I love you... you could never smile or laugh or do anything around me again.”

That made Yuzuru feel a little breathless. He suddenly felt ashamed that so much of what he said to Javier focused on the physical. It wasn’t the sexual things that really got to Yuzuru; it was the affection; the way Javier sometimes got so close and touched so gently that it felt intimate. There were far more things that made Yuzuru feel the dull tug of an old love, but it seemed harsh to pick apart Javier’s entire personality just to make his life a little easier.

“You know there’s lots of things that make me feel like that too,” Yuzuru said quietly. “I just say big things that make me want to do something stupid.”

“Then maybe you should stop looking at me like that.” Javier gestured vaguely. “Whenever you give me that look. It’s very difficult-”  


Yuzuru looked away. He had no idea what his expression had looked like, so could make no promises to avoid replicating it. He should really have told Javier to stop things like this. The sweet, kind of corny things he said that would knock the air out of Yuzuru's lungs. Instead it seemed better to break the mood Javier had created.

“Ah, looks…” Yuzuru turned back to Javier with a smug grin. “You must stop looking at my butt.”

“Huh?”

Yuzuru nodded for emphasis. “In practice. I always know when you look at my body. You must stop.”

Javier sniggered, swirling his straw in his drink like he was playing with the idea of finishing it. Yuzuru knew he wouldn’t. “Okay but you have to stop checking me out too.”

“Okay.” Yuzuru paused, smiling slyly. “But I think it will be hard. Javi looks very nice in new training clothes.”

“Hey, I have to see your in your training gear all the time!” Javier shook his head.. “You’ll cope.”

They both took a moment to laugh. Joking might have lifted the mood, but it was just as uncomfortable in a different way.

“So flirting is okay?” Javier asked, genuinely wanting to define what Yuzuru’s comfort level was and reduce the grey area as much as possible.

Yuzuru thought about it before he answered. It wasn’t just his comfort he had to think about, but Shoma’s too. Shoma could be accepting of it, so long as it meant nothing, but Yuzuru wasn’t sure if he could justify holding on to anything that had the potential to do more harm than good. “Maybe not?” He shrugged. “Maybe only if we both know it’s a joke.”

Javier hummed in agreement, looked out across the cafe for a moment.

“You used to avoid being around me,” he said softly. The change in tone was jarring. Yuzuru felt hyper-alert when Javier turned back to him. “You didn’t want to be alone with me.”

Yuzuru nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

“I understand why you did that now.” Javier’s mouth twitched into some odd, wistful imitation of a smile. “At the time I really didn’t and felt hurt by it but...” Javier raised one shoulder as he trailed off. He didn’t really need to finish, Yuzuru could fill in the gaps. Javier knew it hurt. That is was hard.

“Now...do you feel okay being alone with me like this?”

“I don’t know,” Yuzuru admitted.

“Me either.” Javier ran a hand through his hair. Another thing Yuzuru considered telling his to stop doing.  “I think you were right. To not hang out with me.”

Yuzuru lowered his eyes. That stung.

“When you started spending time with me again, it got confusing. Things like this” Javier gestured at their smoothies. “I confused them as dates for a while.”

Yuzuru nodded, chewing at his lip.

“I think maybe we should go back to not hanging out alone.”

“We’ll only see each other at training,” Yuzuru said, not looking up. He couldn’t really argue, he couldn’t say Javier was wrong. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

“You’re always invited to come out as a group, you know? I have meals with Raya and Sofia a lot. You can join us,” Javier offered hopeful.

Yuzuru smiled and nodded. He knew he wouldn’t take up that invitation. He was pretty sure Javier knew it too - but the point was more to make it clear it wasn’t that Javier didn’t want to be around Yuzuru, but it was just too hard to be alone. Yuzuru understood that.

It was better to be little more than training mates than to force themselves to try to be something they weren’t. They could agree on that.

When they got up to leave, Javier threw away his mango smoothie with barely a third of it finished. Yuzuru pulled a face at him. It was such a waste.

***

Yuzuru was packed up, ready to leave for Japan. It would be little more than a week that he’d be there, but when he came back Shoma wouldn’t be in Chicago anymore. Yuzuru wanted to see him at least one more time before keeping contact would become a lot more difficult.

It was maybe a bit later than usual when Yuzuru next video called Shoma. But it wasn’t incredibly, outrageously late and Yuzuru at least had the sense to send Shoma a message first to ask if it was okay.

It was. Apparently. But Yuzuru hadn’t quite been prepared for Shoma to pop up on his screen all bare-shoulders and freshly-washed hair, half dried and fluffy from where Shoma was rubbing it with a towel. Shoma grinned into the camera and Yuzuru was hit with a burst of warmth in his chest. Pure affection.

It didn’t stay completely pure, though. Because Yuzuru could see Shoma’s bare arms and the little extra muscle he had gained through training.

“I never should have told you I was checking you out that one time.” Yuzuru shook his head, tutting. “You’re never going to wear a shirt when we skype, are you?”

Shoma sulked. “I just got out of the shower.”

“I messaged you to ask if you were free!”

“And I put on underwear,” Shoma argued, raising his hands as if to say ‘ _what more do you want?_ ’

Yuzuru bit the inside of his lip at the suggestion that Shoma could have, might have, answered his call totally naked. The thought made Yuzuru flush.

“You could’ve told me to wait while you got dressed.”

Shoma huffed “If it bothers you so much--”

Yuzuru watched as Shoma suddenly got up and turned away from his screen to go and get a shirt. Only now, Yuzuru had a full screen image of Shoma’s butt in tight underwear pulled over slightly damp skin.

Yuzuru made a slightly strangled sound. He didn't mean to. It just came out.

Shoma turned to look back at him, maybe to check that Yuzuru hadn’t died, and froze. Waiting for Yuzuru to explain.  


“You can. Put something on. If you want to. But.” Yuzuru flustered, having a hard time controlling where he eyes rested since Shoma was just stood there, twisted at the waist to look at him. “I don’t mind.If you don’t.”

Shoma relaxed, turned himself around and sat back down with a smirk. “Pervert.”

Yuzuru shrugged. “You’re nice to look at.”

Shoma blushed, his smile growing even wider. “Are you going to give me something to look at too?”

“Do you have your door locked?”

Shoma paused, blinking rapidly. At least he had caught what Yuzuru was getting at. “Yeah…”

 

Yuzuru pushed his chair back and stood up, checking in the corner of the screen just how much of him was in frame and adjusting as much as he could to get as much of himself on camera as he could without standing too far away. Shoma watched silently, bemused. It wasn’t fair that Shoma seemingly got cuter by the week. His features still settling into an adult form, still refining, hair always doing whatever, body changing too even if it wasn’t growing upwards. Big round eyes that were watching Yuzuru with complete focus.

When Yuzuru started to slowly lift his shirt over his head, he heard Shoma’s sharp intake of breath. He let it drop to the floor. He paused, burying the sharp twinge of embarrassment to instead focus on the kick he got out of teasing Shoma, seeing the colour rise in his face and his eyes get a little wider. He ran his hand down his stomach and hooked his thumb under the waistband of his track pants. Shoma looked at him wide-eyed. Yuzuru pulled them down and kicked them away, leaving himself standing in his underwear.

It seemed weird to stand there with Shoma staring at him, even if his stunned expression was amusing. Yuzuru wiggled as he made his way back to his chair, making Shoma at least crack a smile.

 

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” Shoma said, voice a bit rough and cheeks very, very red.  


Yuzuru could feel his heart thumping wildly against his chest. He felt...playful. Reckless. He leant back in his chair,displaying everything down to his navel for Shoma to see. He wanted to see more of Shoma. A lot more. “Do you...want to do this?”

Shoma looked alarmed. “Do what?”

Yuzuru waggled his eyebrows and let his gaze drop from Shoma’s face to the curve of shoulder and expanse of chest visible to him.

“Seriously?” Shoma said with the slightest hesitation, not sounding at all opposed to the idea but more like he couldn’t believe Yuzuru was suggesting it in the first place.

”Sure.” Yuzuru shrugged. “I will if you will.”

 

Perhaps it was unfortunate that Yuzuru was comfortable with the idea of sexual contact _now_ instead of a few weeks ago when that might have actually included the _contact_. Maybe that was just the time they needed. Or it was just the relief of Javier effectively removing himself from the equation, taking away that edge of confusion and guilt that held Yuzuru back. Whatever it was, Yuzuru felt alight with anticipation that only grew as a mischievous smile spread over Shoma’s face.

 

“Have you done this before?” Shoma asked, eyes twinkling.

Yuzuru shook his head, incredibly relieved that Shoma was up for it.  “No, have you?”

Shook his head too, his fluffy hair bouncing. “But I get the general idea.”  


Yuzuru giggled, bubbling with nervous excitement. He wanted this, but it was weird. The prospect of watching Shoma touch himself, and having Shoma watch him, was already sending heat down Yuzuru’s spine to pool low in his belly. But it was _weird_.

Shoma shifted in his seat, giving Yuzuru a flash of more skin. The subtle definition of muscle, the soft curve of lower belly. Yuzuru felt his face grow hotter.

“We can just talk if you want to. We don’t have to…”

Shoma’s response was swift and sure. “I want to do this.”

 

Yuzuru nodded and let out a nervous breath. It was awkward, but Shoma has moved back in his chair again and gave Yuzuru view that included the slight dip of waist and the slight jut of hips. But it wasn’t enough.

They slipped off their underwear together, though both were still a bit too shy to do that in full view of each other. There was some awkwardness in moving forward, asking each other what they usually did and tentatively starting to follow through. Still, through that shyness, arousal began to simmer until it was strong enough to overcome the awkwardness. It came from hearing the little way Shoma’s breath would catch, seeing his lips part, knowing that when Yuzuru touched himself, Shoma was doing the same.

He waited until he had something to show, and briefly considered the best way to display himself before he moved back for all of his body to come to frame. Or at least all that mattered. He spared a glance to the box at the corner of his screen to at least make sure he hadn’t botched it and was satisfied. But looking at that little reflection of himself set off a small wave of self-consciousness; just enough to feel the need to briefly cover his eyes with his forearm. He reclined as far back as he could, neck arching slightly to press his head into the back of the chair, legs stretched out in front of him. He wrapped his hand around himself and stroked up, grunting at the dry friction of his hand.

Shoma’s choked gasp was worth it.

 

Yuzuru uncovered his face and cracked open his eyes, smirking. Shoma hadn’t moved, but Yuzuru could see the telltale flexing of his arm.  


Yuzuru kept his hand moving slowly, eyes scanning his desk for a second in consideration before glancing back up at Shoma. Judging by the way Shoma was subtly working his mouth, he had the same problem Yuzuru did. Too dry. Okay to touch but uncomfortable. Shoma was trying to get his mouth wet without being too obvious.  

 

Yuzuru mocked a disapproving scowl. “If you spit in your hand, I swear, I will hang up on you.”

Shoma raised his eyes, embarrassed at being called out, and laughed shyly.

Yuzuru leaned forward to reach into his desk, keeping his eyes on Shoma on his screen. “Please tell me you have lotion or something.”

“I have lube! It’s just in my bag and I can’t be bothered to get it,” Shoma‘s voice trailed off. Yuzuru laughed.

”Shoma. Please. Go get lube.”

 

There was something very endearing about the fact that Shoma felt the need to put his boxers back on before he went to hunt in his suitcase. Not that much was really concealed by the tight, grey cotton. Yuzuru almost laughed, wetting his hand with what was stashed in his desk, touching himself mostly for function as he admired the view of Shoma’s butt stuck in the air while he bent over to reach into his bag.

“Why’d you take lube to Chicago?” Yuzuru asked as the thought occurred to him. Shoma didn’t exactly strike him as the type to pack supplies for some sort of ravenous sexual appetite.

”Why do you think?” Shoma retorted, coming to sit back down, wiggling to get his underwear back off. “I mostly just didn’t bother to take it out of my suitcase.”

Yuzuru hummed in acceptance, before that struck him as odd. “How long has it been in there?”

A small, embarrassed kind of sound came from the back of Shoma’s throat. His eyes averted from the screen. “A few weeks”

Yuzuru spluttered. “You had it while we were rooming together?”

”Maybe,” Shoma mumbled, looking up shyly. “I got condoms too. I thought it was better to have them there if we needed them than not…”  


Yuzuru gusted out a breath. he almost wanted to apologise for getting Shoma all keyed up, even preparing for something to happen, only for Yuzuru to repeatedly pull the breaks whenever they got close. But they had already had that conversation. Yuzuru had to trust that when Shoma had told him it was okay and that he had enjoyed what they _had_ done without getting hung up on what they hadn’t, he had been telling the truth. He had to believe that was still how Shoma felt.

Besides. Yuzuru didn’t want to ruin the mood and bring this to a screeching halt. Not when he was continuously, languidly flicking his wrist, watching for signs that Shoma was doing the same, waiting for Shoma to feel comfortable enough to let him see.

 

“That’s kind of hot,” Yuzuru said, dropping his voice in attempts of a purr. Shoma’s lips parted, tongue coming out to wet them.  
Yuzuru leant forward slightly, speaking softly. “Did you ever touch yourself while I was there?”  


Shoma flushed even darker and nodded. Yuzuru’s breath caught in his throat. Shoma looked so gorgeous like that - his colour high, hair falling over his forehead, some strands already sticking to his skin, lips bitten red. Yuzuru wondered how he looked to Shoma - naked, touching himself, pink high on his cheeks and hair messy. Yuzuru wanted to know that he was turning Shoma on half as much as Shoma was him.

He lifted his chin. “Show me.”

Shoma smiled coyly and shook his head. “Ask nicely.”

Yuzuru blinked. A pleasant thrill washed over him. Shoma wasn’t just being shy, he was being a _tease_. He wanted Yuzuru to beg. The thought sent a fresh wave of arousal shooting through his body. He cocked his head and looked up at Shoma through his lashes. “Could you move back to show me?”

“Say please,” Shoma drawled. Brat.

Yuzuru smirked. If Shoma wanted to play they could play. He gripped himself and twisted his hand on an upward stroke. His abdomen tightened, back arching. Shoma bit his lip.

“Please,” Yuzuru said, purposefully breathless. “I want to see you.”

He would have moaned out Shoma’s name for added effect, but that might have been overkill. Shoma was already scrambling back, eyes glazed.

Yuzuru watched the way Shoma licked the pad of his thumb, brought his hand down to toy with the head of his dick. How he pressed against the underside, swiped up and rubbed over the tip before taking himself into his grip. Yuzuru watched the way his thighs tensed and hips rolled up, the way the muscles in his belly jumped and his teeth scraped over his lip. Shoma’s face was flush, eyes half closed. Yuzuru took it all in. This was what Yuzuru wanted to see. Shoma bare, naked, lazily sprawled in his chair. Hard against his belly, in his hand, bucking up into his own touch in response to the sight of Yuzuru doing the same.

Yuzuru didn’t regret not getting to this point before, in Japan, when they had the opportunity. It hadn’t been the right time. Yuzuru hadn’t felt right. His mind and heart hadn’t been where it needed to be.

Maybe it was easier because there was that distance; they weren’t in the same room pressed skin to skin. That distance gave Yuzuru the room to want it. Fiercely. Being able to see, to watch, to hear but not touch or taste was brutal. Cruel. The worst tease. But also the best. It made the ache that much stronger. They could be satisfied but not entirely sated. Not yet. Not until they were alone in a room together, no uncertainty or worry holding either of them back.

He didn’t feel the need to search for justifications for this. Not for himself, or anyone else. There was no attempt to take a mental step back and give reasons why it was okay or worry if it wasn’t. In one way they weren’t together but in another, they were there, together, in a situation they had lead each other to with neither one pushing or pulling the other. It was in line with their pace. Another step forwards they took together. Another piece of the wall coming down.  


“I wish I was there with you,” Yuzuru gasped out.

Shoma laughed breathily. “What would you do?”

“Kiss you.”

Yuzuru watched as Shoma bought his free hand up to his mouth, touching his lips with the tips of his fingers. Oh. Yuzuru understood what he was doing.

“Your neck,” Yuzuru urged. “I’d kiss your neck.”

He watched as those fingers slid away from Shoma’s lips, down over his jaw and slowly crawled down his neck. Shoma bucked into his hand. Yuzuru stroked himself a little faster.

“Are you sure you’ve not done this before?” Yuzuru asked. Shoma was pretty good at this. Drawing Yuzuru in, making it feel more like something they were doing together rather than doing at each other.

Shoma just laughed, sounding a little forced. And shook his head.

“Keep going,” Yuzuru encouraged. Shoma’s hand slid down to his chest. Yuzuru copied him.The lightest kiss of fingertips over his skin. He remembered when Shoma had touched him there, how good it felt. Yuzuru briefly closed his eyes, willing himself to imagine that Shoma was touching him instead. He groaned softly, rolling his head back towards the screen and forcing his eyes open.

“What would you do if I were there?”

Shoma chewed at his lip, reluctant to speak. “I don’t know.”

“Liar.”

”I’d--” Shoma mumbled, casting his eyes to the side. “Touch you? Or touch both of us. Together.”

Yuzuru rolled his hips up into his hand and moaned. He could picture it. The two of them totally entangled. Pressed against each other.

Shoma sniggered. “You’re so into this.”

Yuzuru looked at him through eyes he was barely able to keep open. His throat felt dry, voice coming out rough. He could feel the slightest sheen of sweat building on his skin.

“Keep talking.”

 

Shoma tried. Torn between the awkwardness of saying the things he was saying, how amusing he was finding Yuzuru’s enthusiasm, and the healthy boost to his ego. Yuzuru hung on every ragged exhale, every short grunt, every moment Shoma stopped struggling for words and took a break to moan. He didn’t say much, but it was how he said it that made a knot of pleasure grow in the pit of Yuzuru’s belly. The breathless tone, the restraint giving way to an admission of desire.

Yuzuru ran his free hand through his hair, tipping his head back and letting his mouth fall open. He had given sex with Shoma some thought before, but not seriously. It seemed like some abstract possibility he didn’t need to deal with for a long time. Now he was _really_ thinking about it. Not just fooling around, not just touching above the waist and giggling into each other’s skin or rubbing up against each other as they made out. He thought of getting on his knees, taking Shoma in his mouth. Leaning back against a wall as Shoma did the same. He thought of pushing Shoma down onto the bed and crawling on top of him and spilling against his thighs. Or having Shoma press his wrists into the mattress while he wrapped his legs around Shoma’s hips.

It wouldn’t really matter how they did it. Yuzuru wanted to do it all. Whatever they could, whatever they wanted to try, however they enjoyed it. It had been so _long_ —  


Shoma panted. His voice was strained and raspy. “Would you like that? If I pull your hair--”

Yuzuru couldn’t help but laugh. He was glad Shoma had gotten over how awkward it was to talk dirty but it sounded like a cheesy porno.

Shoma huffed, embarrassment flooding back to him. “Shut up, you’re the one that’s way too into this.”

Yuzuru chuckled. “You can pull my hair. If you want to.” He licked his lips, smothering a desperate sound from the back of his throat, lifting his hips. He was so close. “I’d like it.”

 

Yuzuru tried his best to hold himself back, wanting to watch Shoma come first. Yuzuru could tell he was close. He watched the tremble in his belly and tension growing in his thighs, heard the strain building in the moans he tried so desperately to restrain. But in the end, Yuzuru caved first. The tension in his body breaking, vision sparkling from the force of release. Shoma followed as Yuzuru started to come down. The sight was still sweet even when Yuzuru had lost the endurance race.

They giggled as the cleaned up and redressed, managing a few minutes of lazy, sleepy talk before the satisfaction sunk too deep and the call of sleep was too loud to ignore. Yuzuru smiled at the kiss Shoma blew to the camera, warm with affection.

The distance didn’t seem to matter so much when Yuzuru crawled onto bed. He closed his eyes. They were still getting closer.  


***

 

The trip to Japan had felt too short and too long at the same time. It was comforting to be there, but at the same time Yuzuru was eager to get back to Toronto to train.

It was good to be back, to revisit one of the rinks that had taken him in and given him a place to train after the earthquake had taken his home ice away.

He had almost quit skating. He felt too guilty. It felt selfish, to do something he wanted, that he enjoyed when so many had died and so many more were struggling after their homes and jobs were taken away. But he didn’t. And there were many people there for him, to help him get back in form and ready to compete. When he won the bronze at world’s that year, it felt as if he had won the gold.

Then he left for Toronto. To work hard. To try for the Olympics. To do what he could to remind the world that Tohoku was suffering. And to earn the title so many had pinned on him when they called him their hope.

If skating could make people in Miyagi smile and feel proud for even a moment, then it was the right thing to do. If he could raise even a little bit of money to help them, it was worth it.

Now he was in the position to give a little back to the people who had helped him. Maybe it wasn’t much, but it’s what he could do.

Coaching wasn’t something Yuzuru had much experience in. But he understood why Javier enjoyed it so much. Something was satisfying about leading a session like that and it going smoothly. Yuzuru even remembered being in a class like it; after Shizuka had won her gold in 2006. He had maybe been a little older than the children in his class, a bit further along in his lessons. He had shown off by doing a layback ina bauer for her. It was a memory that resurfaced as he watched one of the older children attempt an unsteady hydroblade for him. Japan’s next star could be in that class. That was an exciting prospect. Children were incredible, the sport was always moving forwards, who could predict what could be achieved in the next ten years? Many new stars would rise after Yuzuru moved from competitions to whatever the next stage in his career would be. It would be fun to see them shine. But just like how Shizuka never lost her shine, skaters like Mao and Kanako, Nobu, Daisuke, Tatsuki… They wouldn’t fade. One day, Yuzuru’s records would be rewritten, but the achievements could never be undone. 

When he went to Korea, he wouldn't really be defending anything. He had his gold from Sochi. He would always be the Olympic champion of 2014. No one could ever take that away from him. Rather, he was fighting for something new. A second Olympic title. Something entirely different and unique.  Another thing to add to his legacy. A new gift to give his country. Maybe if he did it, if he won there, he could inspire more children in skating classes. Give fuel to a new star.

It took thousands of years for stars to burn out, and twice as long for their light to leave the sky. New and old, they all shone together.

 

***

 

Training was always better when there was a goal directly ahead. It was easier to focus when there was a competition just weeks away. Yuzuru returned to Toronto ready to prepare for the first competition of the season. There was a kind of balance that needed to be achieved; to be ready, but not too ready. Fine-tuned to compete but not so much that momentum was hard to build. A good start to the season, but still some room for improvement later on. It was like starting an endurance race- you didn’t want to go at full speed straight away and end up losing energy that would be required later. The right pace needed to be set up so peak performance would be hit at the right time. Yuzuru tended to hit his peak in his third and fourth competitions of the season, he needed to push that back a little, or make it last that extra bit longer. Yuzuru wanted to raise his average across the board, have less drastic low points in his season and more of a steady level of performance. Skating perfect every time was over-ambitious, but avoiding costly mistakes he frequently made early on was the real target. No popping to doubles and singles, no missing combinations in the short program.

He just wanted to lay a stable foundation for the season. So by February he would be somewhat calm, confident, strong and ready to give his very best.

Yuzuru was halfway through his off-ice warm up when Brian motioned for him to come to the office. Javier was already in there, not warmed up yet and bouncing slightly on the spot as if trying to make up for lost time.

Brian gestured for them to sit, but neither of them did. Yuzuru hoped whatever briefing Brian felt he needed to give would be short.

“So, Tracy and I have been talking,” Brian started. Yuzuru shifted uncomfortably. He sounded cheerful enough, and had his usual little smile, so Yuzuru doubted there was a problem. But sometimes Brian could be difficult to read.

“We think it would be a good idea to seperate your training a little.”

Javier frowned slightly, confused. It wasn’t as if they had a lot of time training together already. Deliberate separation seemed unnecessary. “Okay?”

Javier might not have had any questions, but Yuzuru’s stomach dropped. He shuffled his feet awkwardly, teeth pulling on his lip. “Is this because of...what I told Tracy?”

“Um, no.” Brian looked confused for a moment, gaze shifting between Yuzuru and Javier. “What did you tell her?”

“Nothing,” Yuzuru said quickly. A bit too high pitched.

“Neither of you have done anything wrong. It’s nothing like that,” Brian explained, still looking at Yuzuru edgily. “We just have a big season coming up and I don’t want either of you to feel neglected or like I’m playing favourites.”

 

Yuzuru felt uncomfortable again, but for a different reason. As far as he knew, Javier had never made any complaints of that nature, but Yuzuru had. After Javier had won the world title in Boston, while Yuzuru let his foot heal, Brian had had something of a serious discussion with him. To understand each other more, to see what he needed to do to be a better coach for Yuzuru. Mostly, it was about priorities, understand why Yuzuru pushed to train jumps more and why Brian wanted to focus on skills. But Yuzuru had also made a few off-hand comments about Brian seeming happier about Javier’s achievements than Yuzuru’s. Too happy when Javier won Worlds, to the point it made Yuzuru wonder if that’s what Brian wanted - for Yuzuru to make errors so Javier could win. He knew it wasn’t the case and Brian had emphasised that it wasn’t as much as he could - he wanted the best result for both of them, he wanted them both to do well. Yuzuru had dropped it. He logically knew Brian honestly wanted them both to succeed and had evidence in how hard he worked to coach both of them to develop and reach their goals. Perhaps that complaint still played on Brian’s mind. It was one comment he just couldn’t let go of, one thing that would always concern him.

Brian continued, not taking moment to pause or give any indication that he was referring to anything in particular.

“So, once a week, I’ll take each of you for some one-to one time while the other stays for a group practice with Tracy or a workshop with Paige, Andrew or Ghislain.”

Yuzuru brightened. He didn’t really need to work with Paige much, since his spins were fine, and working with Tracy was usually hard work, no matter how much he liked her. But Ghislain. Yuzuru liked him a lot. Working with Ghislain meant playing with jumps, perfecting the ones he already had and trying something new. Yuzuru smiled. “Oh. Okay.”

“But we’ll still have some sessions together?” Javier asked slowly, tone not revealing much about whether he wanted to keep his sessions with Yuzuru or not.

Brian nodded, taking it as a general wondering more than any kind of indication Javier meant anything by checking. “Some. Just less. Unless you think it’ll be better for you to avoid sharing the ice this season.”

Yuzuru cast his eyes towards Javier, almost worried. Javier looked back, amused, and shook his head.

“I don’t think so.”

Brian seemed pleased by that and beckoned them closer to the desk to come up with a schedule that would work for both of them.  


Yuzuru understood the logic behind the change. It made sense. It was difficult, as a coach, to divide your attention equally amongst skaters and in group sessions, no matter who he was supposed to be working more directly with at any given time, it was difficult not to get distracted. When he was supposed to be looking at Javier, maybe he’d be distracted by Yuzuru. Or when he was supposed to be watching Yuzuru, Javier would do something that needed addressing that pulled his focus away. With both of them aiming for the Olympics, and both of their sights on getting a medal - both of their ambitions and abilities pointing towards the gold - he wanted to give them both his best. Focusing on both of their needs and ensuring he did everything possible to prepare them so they could both get their best possible results was his priority. Pulling them away to work with them individually was probably the best way to do that.

But understanding the motivation to separate them didn’t completely chase away the sadness of suddenly seeing Javier less. With just two sessions a week, sometimes less, where they shared the ice gave them less opportunity to settle into new roles and repair their relationship under new rules. Yuzuru regretted not working this all out sooner, when they might of had more of a chance to re-establish a friendship. Now it just seemed inevitable that they would drift apart even further, have even less to do with each other’s lives, become nothing more than two people that inhabited the same space who used to be more but had lost the connection that had once brought them so close together.

And when Javier retired, it seemed inevitable that the last vestiges of friendship they could maybe hold on to would slip away. They’d revert to little more than acquaintances. No longer companions. Just two people active in the same field, paths occasionally crossing, never seeking eachother out.

Yuzuru didn’t let himself think about it too much. It was something far off, in an undefined future. He still had the power to do something about it. Just a little bit of effort could be the difference. And the few times they shared a session, the other times they saw each other around the club, could be enough. They still had chances to laugh together on the ice, to talk idly while they stretched. They had enough time together for Yuzuru to see that Javier really was, significantly, happier. Not just happier that he had been at the end of the season, but obviously the happiest he had been in some time. He had been weighed down by his relationship with Miki crumbling, and the confusion with Yuzuru. Now it was all lifted off him. Whatever the deal was with his new girlfriend, he seemed to glow from it. He was enthusiastic about his programs and optimistic about his prospects.  


It was only a few weeks before the competition when Javier made some off hand comment about how he would also be attending. Yuzuru snapped his head around to stare at Javier, taking a few seconds to process to make sure he had actually understood him.

“Eh?”

“You didn’t know?” Javier laughed. Yuzuru shook his head. Javier didn’t usually do Autumn classic, and it had been years since they started a season at the same competition. Javier shrugged. “I just wanted to start a bit earlier this season. It’s no good peaking in March if the big fight is in February.”

Yuzuru hummed. If he had to push his peak back, it made sense for Javier to try to bring his forward.

“Autumn classic will be harder this year,” He mused. “So high level for early competition.”

“High level?” Javier look at him incredulously. “Because I’m there?”

Yuzuru nodded. “Every competition with you is high level.”

Javier preened, taking that as a compliment. It was, in some ways. It was also just a fact. Maybe figure skating wasn’t a kind of sport where you battled your competitors, more of a battle against yourself; each skaters with their own goals, trying to improve with each competition, seeing where they rose and fell, working towards new personal best and challenging themselves. But there was still some pressure when there was someone there to directly compare yourself too.

Brian eyed them oddly as they headed back out to resume their training, watching the way Yuzuru shoved at Javier’s shoulder and guffawed at his unsubtle fishing for compliments.

It would be fun, Yuzuru thought. Just like before, when they’d fly to Europe at the start of the season and start the season side-by-side on the podium, Javier tickling under Yuzuru’s ribs when they were supposed to be posing nicely for photographs. Whether it just be for the sake of Javier’s peak hitting at the right time, or to motivate Yuzuru a bit more, or for the simple convenience of it being a competition close to where they trained. Or all of those things. It didn’t matter.

Yuzuru was excited to start the season off with a challenge.

 

***

 

Shoma started his season in Europe. He had gone a little early to fight off his typical jet lag long before he had to compete. Yuzuru didn’t really expect to hear much from him while he was there. The time difference was enough that at best they could just about talk through delayed text messages. Nothing more than scraps to check up on each other and for Yuzuru to wish Shoma good luck was really possible.

Still, Yuzuru took a little effort to keep up with the competition. He at least saw the scores for the short program. Yuzuru wanted to congratulate him but thought it would probably be best to wait until the competition was over. Finding the right time while Shoma was in Europe was difficult, and it was best not to disturb him. Yuzuru remembered all too well the arguments Javier would have with Miki when she wanted to keep in touch through competitions, but he wanted to be left alone to focus. Shoma didn’t seem to mind so much, but it was better not to test him.

So it was a bit of a surprise to hear the familiar jingle of a video call and see Shoma’s name with it. Yuzuru answered with a disapproving frown. “Hey! Isn’t  it really late there?

“Yeah,” Shoma sighed. The screen was still black. It always took Shoma a moment to remember to turn on his camera. Eventually the screen flickered, and Shoma’s face appeared. He looked tired and anxious, from the way he was chewing on his lip. Also kind of embarrassed, judging from the way his shoulders slumped forwards. “I did something dumb.”

Yuzuru’s immediate thought was something dumb in practice. A wild combination that didn’t work out or extra steps into a quad that threw him off balance. “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”

Shoma shook his head. “I’m fine.” He paused. The picture was extra grainy since his room was so dark, but Yuzuru could still see the tiredness in his eyes. Shoma chewed on his lip again, eyes flicking away from the screen bashfully. God he was so cute.

“Um... You’ve worked with Satomi a lot.”

Yuzuru frowned. It was a bit random to ask about their costume designer, and probably not worth a midnight phone call.  “Yeah?”

“Would she kill me if I...uh...made an adjustment to a costume?”

Yuzuru was even more puzzled as to why Shoma was awake so late to ask _that_. “No? I make adjustments all the time.”

“No,” Shoma said, as if correcting Yuzuru. “You send them back to her for _her_ to make adjustments.”

Oh, well. Yuzuru pushed his glasses up his nose. “What did you do?”

Shoma shifted uncomfortably. “The collar was bothering me in practice. It was too stiff…” He trailed off, rolling his eyes up the ceiling. “So I cut it.”

Yuzuru’s jaw dropped, not sure if he was totally horrified or dying to laugh. “You what?”

“I cut it.” Shoma looked back down, wide-eyed. “I was careful around the beading and stuff!”

Yuzuru chuckled. “Can I see it?”

Shoma nodded and disappeared to get it, holding up the collar to the camera so he could assess the damage. Shoma had, indeed, been careful to cut around the beading and embroidery detail. It was a pretty design from what Yuzuru could tell, dark fabric with golden baroque swirls curling out from the centre. Shoma hadn’t done a terrible job of it, leaving a little margin around the gold details, so the risk of some of the beads falling off was small. The cuts were raw and doomed to fray, but that could be dealt with. 

Yuzuru hummed in approval. “You should send it back to her so she can tidy up where you cut.”

Shoma lowered the shirt, peeking over the fabric. “Is she going to be mad?”

Yuzuru shook his head. “She’ll probably be really nice about it.”

Satomi was someone who was really easy to work with. Very talented, but part of made her so good at what she did was how much she listened to her clients to meet their needs. Yuzuru was picky about everything from colour to fabric type - how it fitted, how it moved, how easy it was to put on, how the weight of stones were distributed. She was professional and efficient.

Shoma let out a little relieved breath. Yuzuru smiled slyly, wanting to tease. “I mean. I wouldn’t be. If you cut something _I_ had spent hours hand-stitching details onto…”

“I was careful!”

“You were. It’ll be fine. She won’t kill you.” Yuzuru laughed. “But I do understand why Mihoko sometimes acts like she wants to choke you.”

Shoma pouted and fiddled with the collar, running his fingers over the parts he cut cautiously.

“Have you tried it on?” Yuzuru asked. Shoma nodded mutely, still pouting. “Does it move better now?”

“Yeah. It’s less restrictive.”

“I guess that’s what matters now then.” Yuzuru smiled, wrinkling his nose. “Fixing up where you cut will be less work than completely changing the collar anyway. If it works like that. At least she won’t have to make a whole new top.”

He could see the way Shoma’s body relaxed, his head bobbing in agreement. That kind of assurance that he wasn’t completely inconveniencing Satomi was what he needed to hear. It was no good to stick with a costume that was uncomfortable. Sure, it was good to have something that looked good and complimented the program, but function was critical. Skaters needed to be able to move properly in it. Style couldn’t be more important - figure skating was still a sport more than anything else. It was fun to imagine Shoma taking matters into his own hands like that, taking time to carefully snip around the delicate beadwork only to panic that it was the wrong thing to do when it was already done. Yuzuru couldn’t help to feel very fond of Shoma right then - with his hair messy and fluffed out in odd directions, sleepy eyes and embarrassed smile. Yuzuru leaned his cheek against his hand and enjoyed the pleasant throb of affection he felt when Shoma looked back up to him.

“What?” Shoma asked, noticing Yuzuru was staring.

“Nothing. You’re funny.” Yuzuru shook his head. Shoma tried to stifle a yawn but ultimately failed, covered his mouth behind his hands, eyes squeezing shut.

“I-” Yuzuru cut himself off, stopping himself from letting out something he wasn’t sure he was ready to say. But it was too late, he’d already started, he needed to complete the thought. Just with a hasty amendment.  “I-I really like you. A lot.”

“Yeah, I like you too,” Shoma said softly. Almost a whisper. Yuzuru wished the light in the room was brighter, that the camera was better and the image less dark and grainy so he could have seen the blush in Shoma’s cheeks.

“Get some sleep,” Yuzuru urged. He had no idea what time it was in Italy right then, just that it was way later than Shoma should be up during a competition. Still, he took the opportunity to say what he hadn’t sent in a message. “Oh and. Well done. For your short program. You broke a hundred, right?”

“Yeah. A hundred and four,” Shoma said, just a bit proud. But he followed it with a grimace. “I think the judges are a bit... Enthusiastic.”

“It’s better than them being mean.”

Shoma shrugged. “I guess.”

That was the thing about judging. The panels changed, the scores not always consistent. There could be times you’d be sure you’d get called on something only to see later you didn’t, or hope they’d give you some benefit of the doubt only to find they hadn’t. Some would be stingy with the grade of execution marks, while others would be generous. That’s why it was better, for Yuzuru, to record his own feelings of a performance straight afterwards, before seeing the protocols, and to review videos from broadcasts in his own time to pick apart what was good and what needed improving. Judge’s scores could provide some feedback, but relying too much on them could be maddening.

“Get some sleep so you can do well in the free too,” Yuzuru repeated. Shoma nodded and bid his goodnight.

 

Yuzuru watched the free program performance, but not live. Shoma’s intervention of his costume wasn’t bad at all. His care with where he cut almost made it look like the top was designed that way. It would’ve been a shame if it had gone wrong though because the costume was a beauty. Rich navy blue and striking gold, cut in a way that was flattering, sleeves that accentuated Shoma’s arm movements nicely and a regal feel that complimented his operatic music. It was interesting to see him go back to an old program; even if not much time had passed, Shoma had changed a lot. He was less baby faced, sharper, more mature. He carried himself with more confidence.

It was maybe not Shoma’s strongest program, something of a safe choice both in returning to music that had been used before and the choreography put into it, but Yuzuru couldn’t exactly fault that. It was common for skaters to go for something safe in an Olympic season to balance out all the additional stress. Really, Yuzuru was doing the same thing.

Shoma got his first gold of the season, which was somewhat predictable but a good result nonetheless. His total score soared to 319. Perhaps the judges _were_ a touch enthusiastic, the way Shoma had said, but he also managed to lay down a solid enough performance to earn those scores. Yuzuru felt a little kick of competitive motivation. It would certainly be something to beat Shoma’s score in his first competition of the season. Even if he realistically knew he look a little longer to warm up than that, and the judges tended to be less generous in Canadian events. Yuzuru wondered if he could at least come close.

Probably. He’d been doing well in practice. Brian had joked more than once that he could do the Olympics now if they spontaneously changed the date.

Shoma sent him a photo; smiling, hair windswept, holding up his finger in a V. Victory. No medal, not this time, but it was more the principle than anything else. Yuzuru laughed, spotting Jason and Brendan in the background, posing behind Shoma’s back. The Shoma of two years ago seemed far away - the one who was too shy to mix much with international skaters and looked startled whenever someone tried to talk to him. He still found it hard to mingle. He was still shy and his English was too poor to talk to people much, but he had managed to charm everyone who crossed his path regularly. He had an odd friendship going with Jason that shouldn’t have made sense but did at the same time. Jason was bubbly,  friendly and sweet, impossible to dislike and enthusiastically tried to speak Japanese. His language skills were a bit basic, but he was understandable, and it was enough for Shoma to decide Jason was a friend.

Yuzuru saved the photograph to his phone memory. It was a cute picture. Shoma was still in his free program costume. The blue was really flattering on him, his smile was less awkward than he typically looked in photographs, and his eyes seemed to shine despite how dark they looked. He was glad they decided to keep this little tradition.

It would be satisfying to respond with a victory picture of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chap might take a while because I'm going to the Olympics and then moving pm as soon as Olympics end. Lol my life. GO YUZU. GO SHOMA. GO JAVI. Yeah, guess who I want on the podium.
> 
> Please leave comments, not just things you enjoyed but also anything you're 'huh' over. I always get weirdly nervous posting and really appreciate feedback.


	19. Connection

**Connection**

 

Aches and pains were part of training. Tired legs, the occasional twinge in joints, tightness in core muscles. That was why it was so important to warm up properly, cool down afterwards. Yuzuru iced his ankles, feet, knees while he sipped at his awful tasting recovery drink and used heat packs at home as he watched a video for one of his classes. It took a few days to realise that a discomfort wasn’t just regular exhaustion.  


There was a soreness in Yuzuru’s right knee that had gone from being dismissable, trivial soreness to something more troublesome. The persistence was more concerning than the level of pain itself, but it had gotten slightly worse. Yuzuru was aware of it while he did warm up laps around the rink - a stiffness that wouldn’t ease as muscles warmed up, a steady throb that was more annoying than anything else. Like a constant humming in the background, stealing some of his concentration, even if it wasn't enough to completely distract him.

It was bearable at the start of practice, but by the time Yuzuru was entering the second half of his session, it was more than just a mild annoyance. Yuzuru felt a sharp jolt whenever he tried a jump and felt how the knee almost buckled under the landing. He could get through practice, probably even get through the week and complete the competition - but at what cost? He had done it before - felt pain in his knee but forced himself to train and compete through it. The ache had grown. The injury had aggravated. And he ended up needing two months for it to heal.  But that had been at the tail-end of a season, not at the start of one.

Yuzuru wasn’t sure what he had done to his knee this time. It could just be strain from training, or an odd landing or awkward fall a few days ago. He couldn’t remember anything that stood out as a cause. It could have been any combination of little things that gradually contributed to a problem. Only doing triples put less stress on it, but it was better to just not jump at all and focus on other things for the time that was left. Yuzuru tried to evaluate what kinds of movements bothered it the most - turns were uncomfortable, weight put on the right leg made the knee throb, spins felt awkward but not particularly painful. It was enough for Yuzuru to know he shouldn’t ignore it. His body was clearly giving him a message to slow down - it would be stupid at this point to ignore it. Being cautious wasn't something that appealed to Yuzuru, but now wasn’t the time to be reckless.

He told Brian as soon as the session was over.

“Do you want to withdraw from Autumn classic?” Brian asked.

It wasn’t just a simple question - it never was. Brian obviously thought withdrawing would be a good idea, Yuzuru could tell from the tone of his voice and the tight expression he had while he spoke. Autumn classic wasn’t a particularly important competition, and they were aiming to push back Yuzuru’s peak anyway. Withdrawing would not be disastrous, but it had to be Yuzuru’s decision. Partially so Brian could show he trusted Yuzuru’s own judgement, but also because there was no way to force him if he was set on competing. There was another agenda in asking. If Yuzuru chose to withdraw, it would tell Brian a lot about the level of pain, a lot more than Yuzuru simply describing it ever could. Not just because of a limited English vocabulary, but also because they both knew Yuzuru had a tendency to downplay his injuries.

Yuzuru pursed his lips and shook his head. “No. I want to compete. But maybe I need to rest.”

Brian nodded. “Get it checked out and tell me how long you need.”  


The doctor suggested ten days rest, to be safe. Yuzuru thought that seemed excessive and pitched three days rest and light training before the competition to Brian. Brian hedged - at least five days rest and taking out the quad lutz and loop to lighten the strain on the right leg. Yuzuru folded, on the understanding, it would just be for this competition.

He hated compromising, but sometimes it was necessary.

So, Yuzuru didn't train for a week, just kept the image of what he had to do fresh in his mind. That could be enough for him - at least while the time off the ice was short. It was frustrating, not to train before a competition and to cut down the layout of programs but it was for the best. There was a bigger picture.

 

***  


He had just one practice at the club before they would head out to competition. Yuzuru ran through the jumps they had settled on to use until they were sure he was fit and it was safe to push for more.

“How does your knee feel?” Brian asked as Yuzuru dabbed his face delicately with his towel.

“Not bad.” Yuzuru shrugged. The ache was gone, only a ghost of it remained. It was like a whisper at the back of Yuzuru’s mind, reminding him that the tenderness had been there and a problem could still be lingering that he had to be cautious of. There was still time to withdraw if he felt too uneasy, there was always time to withdraw. But that wouldn’t be necessary. "I think it’s okay now."

Brian nodded in acknowledgement, expression relaxed but not smiling. Maybe he was wary of all the times in the past Yuzuru had sworn there was no pain when there had been, or that an injury had been less severe than it had been in reality. Yuzuru knew he had Brian's trust but he also knew he had earned that little spot of doubt.

Brian had that tense look on his face that meant he is going to say something he thought Yururu won't like. As if he was preparing himself for some inevitable disagreement. "This season...There's going to be high expectations. Even at these early competitions."

Yuzuru smothered the urge to snort. There were always high expectations for him.

Maybe there would be more pressure going into the Olympics as the previous champion. But Yuzuru found himself doubting it would be - could be - so much more than everything he had put up with since the first time he had broken the 300 point barrier. Or since he had won at Sochi. Or before that - when he got his first National title, when he broke his first world record score as a Senior or when he got his first medal at worlds. He remembered the bubbling anticipation before his second season as a senior, even though his first season was somewhat of a disappointment.

Even when his world crumbled around him and everything he thought he knew had to be completely rebuilt from the foundations, that pressure was never lifted. It only grew. Even as a junior, as a novice, he had people watching him, buzzing about his potential. Yuzuru could scarcely remember a time when he had been able to skate without distantly knowing there were hundreds, perhaps thousands, of people watching him and expecting something spectacular. He had been dealing with the media since he was ten years old.

It had been a process, over the years, to learn how to filter as much of that out as he could and focus on his own thoughts, his own expectations of himself. It was difficult, though, to completely separate what was internal and what was external when they were so deeply intertwined in places. Parts of his motivation included the thoughts and feelings of his audience, his country, his hometown…

“I think it might be a good idea to, uh, temper those expectations a bit.”

Yuzuru tilted his head. He didn't understand what Brian meant. Brian gave a tight smile.

“It’d be a good idea to tell the media that you were injured and missed training.”  


Yuzuru scowled. He hated talking publicly about injuries close to competitions, or at all. It felt too much like preemptively excusing a poor performance, allowing himself to drop his own standards because he was injured knowing that the audience would understand if his performance was lacklustre. He supposed that was the funny thing about the expectations of him. No one expected more from Yuzuru than Yuzuru. He never wanted to lower his standards for any reason.

A small thought uncurled from the back of Yuzuru’s mind. Shoma’s scores at Lombardia, his gold medal, his strong start to the season and the shy admission that he thought he hadn’t fully earned the numbers he had been given. Yuzuru didn’t know if he’d be able to match those scores with watered-down programs and a less generous judging panel. Media would be unlikely to take into account that scores from different competitions couldn’t be compared directly, even if they should. If the smallest reminder of injury, his usual slowness at the beginning of the season and a lack of practice saw Yuzuru unable to deliver, it was quite likely some would direct their attention to Shoma for a while. Shoma hated that kind of attention, hadn’t had the time to get used to being at the top of the field or grow accustomed to the implications of it. He was strong. He could handle it. Yuzuru had faith in Shoma’s ability to do that. But he couldn’t help but feel somewhat protective. The fact was that Yuzuru wouldn't be competing at his best, and if he offered no explanation as to why, he could inadvertently place too much of the weight they carried squarely onto Shoma’s shoulders.

There was also a smaller, selfish, prideful part of himself that hated the idea of anyone questioning his ability to win. Media pressure could be a burden, it could be a nuisance, the weight of carrying Japan’s hopes and pride could be too much. Sometimes he longed to run away and hide from it. Sometimes he thought about quitting and passing it on to someone else. But there was always a chunk of his soul that thrived from it. The expectation for him to win could easily shift from being a weight that bogged him down, to a powerful wind that came behind him, pushed him forward and lifted him up.  


“Okay,” Yuzuru conceded after a moment of consideration. “We can tell media.”

 

***

 

The competition was in Montreal. Yuzuru hadn’t missed the irony in that. Neither had Tracy.

“How was your flight?” She asked with a sly kind of smile. Yuzuru rolled out his warm-up mat with a huff.

“I wish it had been shorter,” Yuzuru grumbled. “And a few weeks ago.”

Tracy chuckled and ruffled his hair. Brian looked at the two of them in bemusement and glanced to Kikuchi for an answer. Kikuchi shrugged. Javier spread out his own mat in the space adjacent to Yuzuru, so it would be easier for Brian to observe both of them.

The routine of competition was easy to get back into. Familiar.

Warm up, practice, cool down, chat with Misha while they did physio together. It had been awhile since Yuzuru had seen Dice, Misha and Nam. Having Misha hug him hello in the mixed zone, ruffling Nam’s hair as if he was still the little kid that trained in Toronto, chatting with Daisuke after practice and having Javier close by ready to make him laugh at any moment made Yuzuru feel warm, grounded, safe.

The buzz of nerves grew as the short program event approached, but it was balanced by Misha coming over, breaking the tension with a grin. Kikuchi waited until Misha moved off to his own little space of the room before starting to guide Yuzuru through his pre-competition routine. They had tried a few different things to see what worked best, and there would be fine-tuning yet to come, but there were a few things added to the warm-up Kikuchi had already crafted to prepare the muscles - other little exercises to help with nerves, focus and balance. Of course, there had always been little activities sprinkled through to prepare the mind as well as the body. But Yuzuru liked to research these things and Kikuchi was happy to explore Yuzuru’s ideas and find a way to apply them.  


Yuzuru slapped the boards and pushed himself back. Deep breaths, arms crossing over his body to check his axis automatically.

It wasn’t an ideal situation. Competing after suspending training for a week, changing layout without much time to practice it and having to still be wary of his knee...Yuzuru wasn't sure what he could do. But it was just the start of the season. All he was aiming for was to set a decent starting point to work from.

Yuzuru closed his eyes, took a breath, and listened to the opening notes of his music. His shoulders relaxed, the tickle of nerves at the pit of his stomach just enough to keep him sharp, but not so much to shatter his concentration. He just had to do what he could. Take each element as it came. He didn’t have to be perfect, flawless. Not really. Not here. But no one ever wants to fall.

The first jump would be the salchow, not the loop. Just as a precaution to not overly stress his right leg.

Sometimes, everything just felt right. Yuzuru knew before taking off for each jump that he would land it without a problem. He could almost see himself in his mind’s eye, performing each step, each movement of his arms. He imagined everything the way he wanted it performed just before he did it, and let his body follow. He felt the burn in his muscles, the rushing of his blood, the thumping of his heart but on the surface, he was calm, relaxed.

The amount of work that went into appearing effortless was incredible. Not just in the hours, days, months and years poured into practices beforehand, but in any performance too. Being sure that there was enough tension in the body to look poised - back straight, every extension and gesture completed right down to the tips of his fingers, but still loose enough that each movement flowed into the next naturally. As if he was barely thinking about it. As if it were as easy as breathing.

Yuzuru struck his ending pose with the final notes of the piano, satisfied. No mistakes. Despite the bumps getting to this first competition, there were no mistakes. Yuzuru lowered his arms, nodding to himself. He had been worried that not training beforehand would leave him unprepared, but it was fine. He looked back at where Brian stood at the boards and shrugged at him. Not bad.

Brian patted him on the back as he exited the ice. Tracy was beaming as she pulled him into a quick hug.

“Wonderful, Yuzu.”

Yuzuru smiled. It was a relief, more than anything. But he expected himself to be able to deliver. That was the thing about changing layouts to make things slightly easier. Yuzuru knew it was necessary, that it was better to play it safe while this event wasn’t a priority. But it didn’t feel like a challenge, so it didn't particularly feel like a significant achievement to skate clean. He knew it was, and he was pleased. But part of him was pouting, wondering if he could’ve gone for the loop anyway. As if it wasn't enough that he got two quads and put his combination last. As if it wasn’t enough to skate clean at the first competition of the season.  


“How does your leg feel?” Brian asked, holding out the tissue box. Yuzuru could feel the sweat on his face.

Yuzuru took Pooh from him, pulling out a tissue and wiping his nose, and then another to dab at his forehead.  “It doesn’t hurt.”

They sat, waiting for the judges to announce the score. Yuzuru imagined it to be good, though perhaps restrained. It was difficult to predict. He put his tissue box on his hand and held Pooh’s paws.

The score was announced in French first. Brian turned to Yuzuru.“Wow. It’s a hundred twelve.”

Yuzuru blinked. Maybe he misheard. “Twelve?”

Brian hushed him to listen to the score in English. Yuzuru clapped, surprised at the number. One-hundred and twelve. A new personal best, which meant a new record score.

“Pretty good start,” Brian joked. Yuzuru laughed and nodded. Pretty good indeed. He hadn't been trying to set any new records. He just tried to do the best he could.

 

***

 

> _You got a new record?_

Yuzuru sat on the bench in the dressing room. Everyone was kind of...chilling out for a while. There was no rush for a press conference or anything, they had a moment to just mess around the way that guys in a locker room are prone to. Yuzuru had his bag meticulously packed his bag, his hair was partially dried and his jacket half-zipped up by the time his phone flashed with a message. He was surprised there even was one coming from Shoma. He wasn’t sure exactly what time it was in Japan, and couldn’t bother checking, but it would have to be earlier than he typically expected Shoma to be conscious.

There was a comment, laughter, the crack of a slightly damp towel being whipped and a shriek, all of which Yuzuru ignored in favour of tapping out a response.

> _You’re awake?_

Yuzuru glanced up for a split second as Misha and Daisuke came to sit on the benches, wrapping up the process of tidying their respective areas. Javier hobbled over to take a seat next to Yuzuru.

“Who hit you?” Yuzuru asked as little dots appeared on the screen to show Shoma was typing.

“Nam,” Javier muttered sulkily. “He’s really got a good towel-whip.”

“You were stupid and teach him how.”

Yuzuru remembered that. Javier had tried to teach him too, but there was just something about it that Yuzuru was just incapable of getting right so instead of getting it to whip he always just kind of hit his victims with a lame, soft pat. He remembered Nam creasing with laughter when Yuzuru had given up and thrown the towel in Javier’s face.

They still did things like that now. Only Nam was gone. But there were days when everyone’s moods aligned and a couple of them could goof off. If it wasn’t just Javier on his own doing something funny, it was a group of them playing on the ice, or teasing each other after practice. While Nam had always been closer to Javier, Junhwan leaned closer to Yuzuru - following where he led, taking his side when cracking jokes at Javier’s expense, helping Yuzuru out in spontaneous tickle fights. Javier had more of an ally in Gabrielle.

He would miss that. When Javier left. He would miss the way Javier pulled everyone together. How he’d be the one to break Yuzuru’s fixation when necessary and bring some levity to practices whenever they felt too hard.  


Yuzuru turned his attention back to his phone.

> _Haha. Itsuki woke me up because it was on the news.  
_ > _I guess your knee is okay then?_

Yuzuru bit his lip, feeling a little guilty. He hadn’t actually told Shoma that he had taken time off training until Brian had talked him into informing the media. He just hadn’t thought it was important to mention, he didn’t want Shoma to worry, so he didn’t tell him. Yuzuru had sent Shoma a message before anything could hit the media, just letting him know it was nothing serious. Shoma had been a bit peeved that Yuzuru hadn’t told him, but quickly dropped it with a simple ‘ _well, at least you’re being careful_ ’.

> _I’ll try to watch it later. Congratulations!_

Maybe it was a delayed rush from getting a high score, or just from missing Shoma, or from being around friends and feeling happy and comfortable but something made Yuzuru feel kind of silly. Like he wanted to tease Shoma from afar, even though it was always way more satisfying when he could see Shoma’s face and the way the blush would rise in his cheeks. Or hear him laugh, with his nose scrunching up cutely. Or even to see Shoma rolls his eyes.

> _Thanks sweetie~ (*¯ ³¯*)♡_

Shoma’s response was swift and blunt.

> _Ugh. You’re such a dork._

Yuzuru smiled at his phone. He had never used those kinds of endearments before. They were cheesy and dumb but there was something nice about having someone he could call sweetie or baby, even if it was just as a joke. A half-joke. Showing affection was tough when they couldn’t touch. Finding another way, even if it was to tease, felt good. So long as Shoma didn't say he hated it or tell him to stop...  


He thought of the times he had heard his dad call his mom _‘darling’_ and the way she would brighten whenever he did. He wondered if Shoma was smiling like that now. If he would blush if Yuzuru said it while they sat side-by-side and hide his burning cheeks against Yuzuru's neck.

Javier nudged Yuzuru in the side. “You’re talking to Shoma?”

Yuzuru turned to him, locking his phone out of embarrassment. Javier couldn’t read Japanese, certainly not on sight, but he could recognise the little faces Yuzuru was prone to using. “Yeah.”

“It must be early in Japan, right?” Daisuke asked, frowning. Probably trying to calculate the time difference in his head. Yuzuru shrugged. It wasn’t too early. It was at least late enough that Shoma probably should’ve been getting up anyway to get ready for training.

Misha sat himself down and slipped his feet into his sneakers. “Are you still sending him victory selfies?”

“Yeah,” Yuzuru affirmed, zipping up his jacket the rest of the way. “But that’s only after we get the medals.”

“You do that?” Javier’s tone was cool, mildly curious at best, but it seemed like he was trying too hard to sound unbothered. At least to Yuzuru.

“We started doing it last season,” Yuzuru admitted plainly. Something flickered over Javier’s features. Not jealousy, though Yuzuru suspected some was present. Maybe surprise. A little bit of hurt. Yuzuru wasn't sure why though. “We’re teammates.”

“I thought-” Javier paused, smoothing out his expression and moderating his voice, adding a shrug of his shoulders for effect. “I just didn’t know you’d been doing stuff like that for so long.”

Yuzuru pursed his lips but said nothing. Why did it matter? The build-up in contact between Yuzuru and Shoma had initially just been...nothing. Just friendly gestures and wanting to be closer. Because Shoma was Yuzuru’s _kohai_ , and so Yuzuru felt some responsibility to look after him and make him feel comfortable. Because Shoma was sweet and had been there when Yuzuru was miserable and injured, trying to cheer him up and listening when Yuzuru needed to talk. Because they had things in common and Shoma was shy and Yuzuru just wanted to know him better…

It’s not like Yuzuru didn’t chat with other people using similar methods. Maybe not including photos. And maybe not as frequently. But it hadn't occurred to Yuzuru for some time that the relationship he was fostering with Shoma was any different from the way Yuzuru kept in touch with Nobu, Keiji, Ryuju or even Kanako. Aside from maybe being more regular. But he had put that down to them competing together.

Why did it matter? Javier would never know when their attempts to keep some communication going changed from a gesture of friendship to something else. Yuzuru barely knew when that changed. It had been slow. Shoma just sort of...grew on him.  


Daisuke pulled out his phone, beaming, gesturing for everyone to sit closer. “Let’s take one together!”

Yuzuru smiled. Daisuke used a cute bunny filter.  
Yuzuru made a mental note to bully Shoma into downloading it later.  


***  


Javier and Yuzuru have known each other long enough to know each other’s ticks. The little things to look for that indicates they were not just suffering from the typical nerves competition brought. Javier would usually become quiet, easily distracted and withdrawn - going off to the restroom and hiding there, sticking himself into corners, scrambling for somewhere quiet where he could be alone.

Maybe it was the way Yuzuru was bouncing on his heels whenever Brian stopped him to talk. Or the way he was gradually getting frustrated with his little ball-catch exercise that was supposed to help him focus, or just how his eyes would dart around the room with his attention span going completely out the window. Something made Javier think that Yuzuru was getting anxious. Javier waited until they headed into the locker room to approach him.

“Hey,” Javier said softly, coming in close to avoid garnering any attention from the people around them. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

It was instinct to respond like that. A reflex. Javier’s lips pulled into a thin line. He didn’t believe Yuzuru for even a second.

Yuzuru tried to ignore him. Really, he wasn’t too bad. But the fact that he had skated clean the day before, and he was heading out with a watered down layout he should be expected to skate perfectly, was weighing on his mind. It wasn’t a nervous feeling, it was more just an...off kind of feeling. Like some of his motivation was missing. It was difficult to centre his attention.

He was part way through pulling his costume on, pulling off his training top, ready to slide his arms through the sleeves when Javier reached out and touched his shoulder.

It was an innocuous area to touch. Javier’s hand was mostly on Yuzuru’s upper arm, more touching to get him to stop and pay attention than anything else. Still. Yuzuru was partially undressed and feeling on edge.

“Hey. You don’t have to talk to me, but I’m here,” Javier uttered, gentle and patient. His palm was warm against Yuzuru’s skin. His thumb stroked Yuzuru’s arm.

“That doesn’t help.” Yuzuru flinched away, his tone strained. He hastily pulled on the top half of his costume, zipping it up and fiddling with the button at the neck.

“Sorry.” Javier dropped his hand back down to his side, turning his body away from Yuzuru. “Just...Remember this is just the beginning, yeah? You don’t need to be perfect here. You’re saving your best for later.”

Yuzuru agreed. He knew that, rationally. It was good to hear it though. It soothed him. But he still had that nagging at the back of his head of wanting to make the right kind of impact on his first outing of the season. If he was going out with his full layout for the season, it would be easier to concentrate on the individual parts, because it was natural for his thoughts to first be entirely focused on landing the lutz, and then on landing the loop. But here there were no shiny new jumps to hold his attention. He was trying to think of the performance as a whole - just do the whole thing the best he could, make sure everything was there and every step flowed and every gesture worked.  

Javier walked away - giving Yuzuru some space, but also to prepare himself. He had to compete too.

It seemed little things were just... wrong. Yuzuru felt off and unbalanced. He went to slip on his gloves beside the ice before his warm-up, only to find he had two right hands and no glove for his left. He found his mother’s face in the crowd across from where he stood and held them up to her. She raised her arms in a shrug as if to say ‘ _what do you want me to do about it?_ ’

He couldn’t even blame her. He had packed his bags. She had helped put costumes into garment bags, but Yuzuru had been the one to pack his gloves.

He couldn’t collect his thought in the six-minute warm-up. Or backstage. Or on the ice, as he set out to perform. He knew that he had totally lost any clarity of thought he had after popping the first jump. He tried to claw it back, but everything fell apart in the second half.

It was embarrassing, to perform so badly. He didn’t, really, have any excuses for why he did so poorly.

“You had a week off training,” Tracy said, gently patting his knee as they waited for the score. “You’ll do better at the next thing.”

Yuzuru nodded mutely. The next competition would be in Russia, the first of Yuzuru’s Grand Prix placements. Yuzuru had a habit of bombing his first Grand Prix competition and using that to fuel his practices before the next one. The mild humiliation and regret of getting the lowest free skate score he had gotten in years was bound to be enough to get Yuzuru focusing on his practices before Russia.  


Yuzuru watched Javier skate, sipping on some apple juice. He had missed competing with Javier in these smaller events when he could watch and clap with the crowd whenever Javier landed his jumps, or wince at a stumble or fall. Yuzuru liked watching Javier perform, but didn’t always get the chance to. Competitions were often too hectic. Watching him made Yuzuru remember why he had moved to Toronto, why he had been drawn to Javier. His charisma, the spark of life and energy and personality he brought to his skating. The clean quads that looked easy and beautiful and the way training with Brian had improved Javier’s quality overall - in his steps, the flow and glide he had over the ice.

Yuzuru remembered the mistakes he had made in his performance, recounting them with Kikuchi and cringing. But Javier’s words from earlier rang through him - it was just the start. This wasn’t where he needed to be his best.

It was funny. Because that was the kind of thing Brian was always telling him. Or Tracy. Or Ghislain. Javier would make a good coach, one day. He had the patience that Yuzuru usually lacked.

Javier won. Yuzuru came in second.  It stoked the fire in the pit of Yuzuru’s belly.

Still, it was good to stand on the podium beside Javier again. It had been a while side Yuzuru had posed for photographs, holding his medal, suppressing the urge to giggle and squirm because Javier’s fingers were wiggling at the ticklish spot beneath his ribs. Yuzuru pointed out a Spanish flag in the crowd that Javier could look to as his national anthem played.  


Away from the crowd, before they all changed out of their program costumes, Yuzuru grabbed Javier and Misha for a quick picture. Photographs were little memories. Stored up to be revisited. It might not be Yuzuru’s proudest moment, but it would be a memory he would come back to. Just being there, with his two friends, possibly for the last time.

Off the ice, after changing clothes and packing stuff away, Yuzuru sat down on a bench and dug his phone out of his jacket pocket.

> _I sucked~~~ (´•ω•̥`)_

Yuzuru attached a glum-faced photograph with an exaggerated pout that he hadn’t taken with the others and was far less likely to keep. He didn’t expect any kind of response for an hour or two. Shoma was bound to be asleep. He hoped Shoma would wake up, see it and smile.

“You okay?” Javier asked, sitting down beside him. Yuzuru lets himself lean into Javier’s side, feeling some of the tension in his muscles ebbing away. He couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel to have a hot bath and lie down on the bed.

“I’m fine.” Yuzuru looked up at him cheerfully. “Really this time.”

“Good.”

“I’m sorry for snapping at you,” Yuzuru said quietly. “I know you just want to help.”

Javier carefully slid an arm around Yuzuru’s shoulders and gave him a light squeeze. “It’s fine.”

“I’m glad we got to compete together.” Javier rocked Yuzuru from side-to-side slightly, as if he were unsure if Yuzuru was upset and wanted to comfort him anyway, just in case.

Yuzuru softened further. “I’m happy to stand next to Javi on podium.”

Javier turns to him. His smile was small, rather than beaming, his eyes soft and sad. There wouldn’t be many more chances for them to do this - win medals together. This was it. One of the last times they would share a podium. Yuzuru realised it with a dull twist of pain. He wasn’t sure if Javier would do the World championships this season. So, assuming they both made it, their only other chances to finish competitions side-by-side would be the Grand Prix Final and the Olympics. Just two more chances. Maybe not even that.

“It’s always an honour to stand next to you.”

Yuzuru felt his bottom lip quiver.

“Hey, what’s this face for?” Javier asked, achingly soft. He lifted a hand to Yuzuru’s face, thumb stroking his cheek lightly. Chasing away tears that hadn’t quite formed yet. Yuzuru couldn’t answer. His throat was too tight, and talking about Javier retiring was too horrible. Yuzuru just couldn't accept it. Not yet. Not now.

Yuzuru shook his head, forcing himself to smile. “Next time, I’ll be in the middle.”

“We’ll see,” Javier said, tone almost teasing.

He was too close. Yuzuru scooted back, away from him, to a more comfortable distance. Nam was looking at them from the corner of his eye.

“I should go.” Yuzuru stood up, picking up his bag and swinging it onto his shoulder. “Press.”

Javier nodded and let him go.  


***  


Yuzuru took it easy for a week, just in case his knee wasn’t totally ready to restart training the loop and the lutz. He started them again as soon as Brian would allow it.

Yuzuru wasn’t sure how much he should contact Shoma during competitions. Sure, they had done this before, but they hadn’t been a 'thing' then, and Yuzuru had mostly waited for Shoma to text him or waited until the competition was over. Japan Open was a fun kind of thing. They only had to do the free program and that was it.  

Still, it was rough to wait for it to end when Javier messaged him early in the week saying ‘ _you should know, your boy is having some boot issues._ ’

“I tried to give some advice but his English is about on par with my Japanese,” Javier later elaborated. “He seems kinda stressed. You should maybe talk to him.”

Yuzuru delayed. Boot issues were not a problem Yuzuru could help him with. Shoma had other more experienced skaters there with him to chip in with their two cents of what he could do with his boots, he had a coach who knew more about the problem, and he had all the years that he had been skating and getting to know his preferences and his needs. There wasn’t anything Yuzuru could offer except platitudes, maybe some comfort and some sense of support.

But he remembered the way Javier disliked when Miki tried to talk to him while he was away at competitions. He complained it was distracting. He would ignore her, then she would get annoyed at him and they would argue. That alone was enough to make Yuzuru hesitate to send Shoma a message asking if he was okay.

“It’s fine,” Shoma responded, explaining the problem. “I’ll get used to it, I’m just still adjusting to my blade being in the centre again.”

Shoma didn’t seem to mind talking before the competition, laughing fondly when Yuzuru - upon realising the time - urged Shoma to rest and continue talking tomorrow, or some other time. He didn’t want to become an annoyance to Shoma, and he wasn’t sure how much contact he’d be comfortable with in the days before a competition either. He hoped they would tell each other if they needed more or less contact at certain times, and they would listen to each other. Still, Yuzuru wanted to avoid reaching the point of argument as much as possible. Some things came first, and there would be times for both of them where skating came first.

They had talked about this. Agreed to it.  But still, Yuzuru longed to reach out, enough to still feel close even when they weren’t.

They next talked after the skating was done. Yuzuru had watched. Shoma had done...okay, not great. Third place. The team came second. It didn’t matter.

“Italy was kind of a fluke,” Shoma said flatly, shrugging one shoulder through grainy webcam. “This feels like more of a starting point.”

Yuzuru understood. They took a similar approach but used different methods. Shoma would put a disappointing performance behind him, train hard and try to do better next time. Yuzuru would look at the mistakes made in one competition and work to avoid making them in a second competition. The goal was to skate your strongest when it was crucial, but have a somewhat consistent level throughout the year, gradually improving from one competition to the next.

They both had something to build off.  


***  


Yuzuru had been looking forward to going to Russia for a few reasons. One of them had been sharing the competition with Keiji.

They didn’t talk half as much as they used to, and not nearly as much as the should. Life just got in the way a lot.

> _I pulled a muscle in my hip -_-  
_ > _So, uh, I’m not going to see you in Russia after all._

Yuzuru frowned at the messages. It sucked whenever anyone got injured, even a minor one, but it particularly stung to have Keiji pick up an injury now. Now just because he was a teammate and it was the Olympic season, and not just because it meant Keiji was robbed of one of his Grand Prix placements. Yuzuru had been looking forward to having a long-term, real friend at this competition. It would have been good to catch-up and cheer for each other.

Yuzuru video called him, so at least Keiji could see him sulk.

“How’d you pull a muscle in your hip?” Yuzuru asked, looking at Keiji’s long face filling the screen about as neutrally as he could when all he felt like doing was to stick out his bottom lip and whine childishly.

“Not the fun way,” Keiji answered dryly. Yuzuru snorted.

“It sucks you won’t be there.” Yuzuru let out a heavy sigh. The truth was, he had needed to come clean to Keiji. Come out. Be honest.  “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Keiji raised an arm in a kind of tired gesture. “We’re talking now.”

“I wanted to tell you in person…”

It was pathetic. Maybe. But Yuzuru had hoped to be in the room when they talked about this. He thought it was better to be present for his friends’ reactions. He thought maybe he might need to explain more or calm them down. It was more difficult to do that over text messages and fuzzy webcam video. It could wait until Nationals. At least that way Keiji and Ryuju could find out at the same time and Shoma could be with Yuzuru when he told them.

Keiji shot him a look.  “Yuzuru, seriously.”

Yuzuru pressed his lips together. He wanted to just say it, get it out there. But he was reluctant and a bit scared. “Maybe he already told you…”

Yuzuru had told Shoma he could tell friends they were seeing each other. He knew Keiji already knew something. Maybe Shoma already told him and forgot to mention it.

“Oh my god,” Keiji gasped, eyes widening. Okay, maybe Shoma hadn’t told him. But he was figuring it out. “Oh my god!”

Yuzuru felt his stomach churn. He wasn’t sure if Keiji sounded happy or not.

“You’re pregnant?!”

Keiji burst out laughing. Yuzuru huffed. “I’m going to hang up on you.”

“Don’t,” Keiji pleaded. “I’m bed-bound and bored. Entertain me.”

Yuzuru hesitated, chewing at the inside of his mouth. “It’s about Shoma.”

Keiji’s lips curled into a smirk.  “Is he the daddy?”

Yuzuru sighed. He had wanted Keiji to take this seriously.  “Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, I’ll stop.” Keiji smiled, picking up on Yuzuru’s tiredness and maybe even his nervousness. “What about Shoma?”

“We’re dating.”

“Dating,” Keiji repeated slowly. Yuzuru could feel his hands become clammy. Keiji’s expression was kind of guarded. Keiji shifted, eyes narrowed. “As in, actually seriously dating or fooling around?”

“Seriously dating,” Yuzuru clarified, voice coming out quiet and scratchy.

Keiji nodded for a moment before his face twisted into a grimace.

“Oh. Ew. Gross.”

Yuzuru’s heart sunk down to his stomach. He felt sick. There had been a split second of relief in just saying it so freely. That relief was gone. The urge to cry swiftly replaced it.

Keiji’s expression changed, from looking like he smelt something bad, to a mild panic once he noticed how Yuzuru’s face had fallen. “I don’t mean-I just-I wish I hadn’t joked about him fathering your child now.”

“Keiji, I swear-” Yuzuru wanted to reach through the screen and punch Keiji in the arm. He was so annoying. “You nearly gave me a panic attack.”

Keiji’s brows drew together, rushing out an apology because he had only tried to joke. It wasn’t a good joke and it was in poor judgement but the intent had been to diffuse Yuzuru’s anxiousness, not increase it. Yuzuru took a deep breath, letting his eyes shut for a moment so he could collect himself. When he opened them, Keiji was smiling. That was, at least, reassuring.

“Yuzu, you’re okay. I don’t have a problem with this.”

Yuzuru jerked his head to show he was listening, just absorbing. He let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. But he still wasn’t sure, he still felt uneasy.

“What a little shit. I can’t believe he didn’t tell me.” Keiji shook his head, disbelieving. “How long have you been dating?”

“A few months? Maybe six?”

Keiji’s mouth slackened for a moment. Apparently, he hadn’t expected that.  “Six months? Oh, he’s totally dead.”

Yuzuru made a soft, dissenting sound. “Don’t kill my boyfriend.”

Keiji shifted, shoulders dropping as he relaxed. He broke out into a big, toothy grin. “Well. Congratulations, I guess.”

Yuzuru could finally smile in return. His heart wasn’t beating wildly anymore, his stomach wasn’t flipping.

“I was worried you...wouldn’t approve.”

Yuzuru couldn’t exactly pinpoint what made him think that, but he had got the impression that Keiji wasn’t exactly fond of the idea of Yuzuru getting closer to Shoma. He remembered Kanako mentioning that she wasn’t the only one to be wise to Shoma’s feelings for him, but being aware that Keiji knew of Shoma’s crush didn't make it easier to come out to him. And it didn’t chase away the feeling that even if Keiji was fine with Shoma being gay, and Yuzuru being gay...that didn’t mean he’d be fine with the idea of them being together.

Keiji was still for a moment, pressing his lips together before speaking. “Are you as serious about this as he is?”

Yuzuru nodded slowly. “I think so.”

“Are you using him to get over someone else?”

Yuzuru blinked. It was a very pointed question and it was something Yuzuru had to think about before he could answer. Maybe part of why Yuzuru accepted Shoma’s feelings initially was a desire to move on from Javier. But…

But Yuzuru started a relationship with Shoma because he liked him. He started dating Shoma because he wanted to. He continued to date Shoma because he liked being with him, getting closer to him, falling for him.

“No.” Yuzuru shook his head. “No. I’m not.”

“Yuzu,” Keiji started, voice more gentle. “I knew he liked you for at least a year and spent pretty much all of that time encouraging him to just tell you.”

Yuzuru was taken aback. He hadn’t known Keiji was actively encouraging Shoma. “Really? Why?”

“Because I saw you pine over someone for years and I didn’t want Shoma to do the same,” Keiji stated meaningfully.

Yuzuru looked down, away from the screen. There was no way Keiji would know the complicated nature of Yuzuru’s relationship with Javier. But it was possible he had known. Yuzuru long enough to notice how he felt. To some extent.

“So long as you don’t do anything to hurt him, I’m cool with it.”

“I already got that talk from Kana.” Yuzuru scowled, eyes flickering back to where Keiji’s face filled the screen. He was starting to feel insulted at how his friends seemed to immediately jump into being protective of Shoma as if he’d do something bad to him. “How come you all think I’ll hurt him?”

“I’d like to think you wouldn’t,” Keiji said in a mollifying kind of tone. “But I know exactly how Shoma feels about you. I don’t know how you feel about him.”

“The same,” Yuzuru responded quietly. He wasn’t totally sure, not 100%, but he was sure enough to confirm it like this. Enough to ease any concerns Keiji might have that Yuzuru didn’t care as much for Shoma as Shoma did for him. “I feel the same.”

“In that case…” Keiji raised his eyebrows cheekily.  “I’m happy you’re dating. He’s nuts about you. And you...needed someone.”

Yuzuru looked back up, smiling, cheeks pink. “Do you think I should tell Ryuju?”

Keiji paused, thinking about it for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. He’ll be at least as happy as I am. Like it’s kinda weird but it’s cool?”

Yuzuru smiled. He appreciated that Keiji had taken a moment to think about it, rather than answering immediately. It was more sincere. Yuzuru could believe him more easily.

“You were dating at World’s, right?”

Yuzuru licked his lips, his throat still felt dry and tight. “Yeah.”

“You weren’t obnoxious about it or anything there. I don’t think it’ll change much unless you start making out while we’re in the room or something.”

“We wouldn’t.” Yuzuru laughed, shaking his head. Shoma wasn’t exactly the greatest fan of public displays of affection even on a small scale. He’d sooner cringe himself into a black hole than ever make out in front of anyone.

Yuzuru felt relaxed enough to chat normally, find out more about Keiji’s little injury - when he thought he’d be recovered, how long he had to rest it for. It wasn’t too bad, it was just unfortunate timing. The few days of rest and the week or so of taking it easy and gradually working the hip back up to moving the way it needed to move just so happened to cover the time they were supposed to be competing. Rushing could cause a bigger problem. It wasn’t worth it.

“I need to go,” Yuzuru said, having seen the time and realising he needed to sleep soon or he’d be in terrible form the next day. He had sworn to Brian he’d commit to a solid eight hours of sleep at least, foregoing all-nighters playing video games, watching movies or late night studying. He still stayed up late playing video games and watching movies, image training and trying to keep in touch with friends. He just tried to moderate it a bit more and go to sleep earlier. Not at 2 am. “I hope your hip feels better soon.”

Keiji nodded, pumping his fist in a cute gesture of support. “Good luck in Russia!”  


***  


The last time Yuzuru had competed at Russia’s GP, he had still been relatively new to the senior field. He had still been living in Japan, with his family, still had Nanami as his coach and had still been reeling from the earthquake, coming so close to losing everything. He had lost his home rink and had to bounce from place to place, using ice shows to practice and being taken in by other coaches in different cities. It had been the first time he won a gold medal at Grand Prix.

Yuzuru had pretty positive memories of Russia - from competitions in the past and training camps he had attended as a child. He had grown up a skater shaped by various approaches from different countries - Japanese skating at his foundations, some Russian influence from his idolisation of Plushenko and contact with Russian coaches early on that helped develop his ideas of aesthetic and form and musicality, some Canadian and North American influence coming in as well from training with Brian. Yuzuru would always feel indebted to his teachers through the years; Tazuki, Nanami, Tatiana Tarasova, Brian and Tracy. They had laid the foundations for his skated, taught him technique, helped him develop an understanding of what people meant when they spoke of 'artistry'. He had grown because they had nurtured him.

He had only come to Russia this year because the scheduling of events made it favourable. Giving him two weeks to rest and train before competing again in Japan. Still, it felt nice to come back and perform in an Olympic season. A nice opportunity to thank one of the countries that helped shape him.  


Yuzuru stretched out, warming up before practice. The mixed zone was fairly busy with people milling around at various stages of warming up or cooling down. As some people left, others arrived. Yuzuru shot the girls a crinkly-eyed smile as they set down their bags. Evgenia returned it warmly and gave a small wave. Wakaba called her over, so she went, joined by Kaori who bounced over to their sides, peering at Wakaba’s phone and looking mischievous.

Yuzuru stretched forwards, grabbing onto his feet, feeling the pull on his hamstrings. The girls loitered nearby, talking to each other in slow, stilted whispers and occasional giggles. It didn’t bother Yuzuru; he could always put in his earphones and drown them out with music if he needed to, but the little hum of chatter around the area was fairly calming and it was nice that they were having a moment to just be teenage girls. Being athletes the way they were, skating at the level they did meant things got sacrificed. Yuzuru missed classes while he was in school because he had competitions, missed out on hanging out at friends’ houses because he had practice. He struggled to relate to a lot of his classmates so lost out on developing close friendships and even the friends he had within skating he ended up somewhat distanced from because of training and competitions and moving overseas. When Yuzuru was a teen, he had left his friends behind in juniors. He had been fifteen, sixteen with teammates in their twenties who were nice to him, but not friends. Yuzuru had been surrounded by skaters much older than him that he couldn’t relate to, or struggled to communicate with.  


“Nathan!” Wakaba called out. Nathan turned around sharply, mid-step where he was jogging around his mat. His curls bounced. Wakaba waved for him to come closer, and so he went, although it was hesitant and he looked startled. Yuzuru watched idly, releasing his feet and wiggling his legs.

Wakaba held up her phone for Nathan to see and smiled sweetly. “Mai want me to wish you luck.”

Evgenia and Kaori giggled. Nathan looked flustered. “Oh. Uh. Tell her I said thank you.”

“You have her number, right?” Evgenia chimed in, leaning against Wakaba’s side. Her hands curled around Wakaba’s right shoulder, putting most of her weight on her left leg. Wakaba put her hand on Evgenia’s waist to help stabilise her. “Why not send her little message? I think she like to hear from you.”

Yuzuru could see Nathan was beginning to blush.“I...Uh. I don’t want to bother her.”

“Maybe after competition,” Wakaba said, apparently ignoring him. “So you don’t get distraction.”

Yuzuru stood up and walked over to them, shaking out his legs and settling next to Kaori. He poked her in the side, making her squeal.

“Hey,” Yuzuru started. It felt rude to speak in Japanese and essentially exclude Nathan, and to some extent Evgenia, from the conversation, but he could get certain nuances and inflexions in his voice that he couldn’t quite get across properly in English. Yuzuru wiggled his fingers against Kaori’s side, making her laugh. “Why are you teasing him?”

“Don’t you know?” Kaori asked, wiggling away from him. “Nathan has a crush on Mai.”

Yuzuru made and interested sound. “Really?”

“What did she say?” Nathan rushed out. His eyes bounced between Yuzuru and Wakaba, not sure who would translate first.

Wakaba raised one shoulder up to her cheek in a cute, disarming kind of gesture. “Only true thing.”

The pink in Nathan’s cheeks intensified. “I’m gonna go warm up now.”

The girls tittered as Nathan scuttered back to his mat to continue his warm up.

Yuzuru tutted at them. “You’re so mean.”

“It’s cute!” Wakaba protested.

Evgenia nodded rapidly. “Very cute.”

Yuzuru pulled a face at them. “You shouldn’t gossip.”

Kaori whined at him, pushing him playfully with her shoulder. “Aw, Yuzu. It’s only fun.”

Yuzuru rolled his eyes and lightly patted each of them on the top of the head as a gentle reprimand before he also went back to his mat.  


***  


Practice had been shaky. Yuzuru was still stiff and tired from the flight. It had been more of an exercise in adjusting to the ice and trying to get his jumps to cooperate.

It was interesting, how the last time Yuzuru had competed in Russia he was still building up his quad-toe and had stepped out or fallen on both attempts, but still managed to win the competition. This time he’d be attempting a new quad, the lutz, and using three other types. He could look back and see that progress, but it wasn’t just him who had developed. The sport had changed in that time.

There had been chatter as they cooled down, a few from the practice group winding down in the same area. Nathan wound up doing his foam rolling next to where Yuzuru was doing his, with Misha nearby going through his own cooldown routine. Just banal conversation as they brought their heart rates down and cared for muscles before they could get stiff and sore. They talked about the practice session, the quality of the ice, each other’s programs and layouts and if Yuzuru’s knee was better. Then Misha slipped off for physio and Nathan and Yuzuru hung back, sat with their backs against the wall, sipping on their water.

Yuzuru rolled his head to look towards Nathan, grinning slyly. “So...You like Mai?”

Even though he had scolded the girls for teasing Nathan and gossiping, Yuzuru was curious. Mai was his teammate, he reasoned. There was part of him that felt protective of her, like an older brother might.

“Everyone likes Mai,” Nathan mumbled.

“True.” Yuzuru bobbed his head. Mai was sweet and friendly and cute. No one disliked her. But that wasn’t what he was meant. “You like her more?”

Nathan shrugged and fiddled with the cap of his water bottle. “She was nice to me when I was injured. Even though she didn’t know me that well. She was supportive while I was recovering.” He turned to face Yuzuru. “You learn about people in those kinds of situations, right?”

Yuzuru couldn’t help but agree. Though Yuzuru usually learned something about himself when he was injured, more than he learned about anyone else. Perhaps it was just more of a struggle for Yuzuru to consider how he related to other people than it was for Nathan.

He didn’t always learn from every injury he had, but the more serious ones, the more troublesome ones, they always came with some kind of lesson. The collision, when he had cried the most he ever had in all his life. That had been the start of a lesson that no matter what Yuzuru did, or what he achieved, nothing would ever be easy. That had been maybe one of the biggest in a string of moments where Yuzuru thought about quitting, asked himself why he was doing this, and ultimately answered ‘ _because I love this too much to let go_ ’.

Yuzuru had trained hard, reached his highest peak of achievement at that time, then was swiftly swatted back down and it happened over and over again. He’d train, do well, then have some kind of set back. Heal, train, have one shining moment and then get injured again. As if that was the price he had to pay for winning at Sochi, winning Worlds, winning the Grand Prix, setting a record. After each high point, there came a new low. It left him constantly preparing himself for something bad to happen because it was just around the corner.

Every time he hit a low he’d ask himself why he should carry on and every time he answered ‘ _because it’s worth it_ ’. The highs were worth the lows. And the climb to the top, no matter how difficult, was as rewarding as the prize at the end of each struggle. Skating was his _ikigai_ , his reason the being.

Really, Yuzuru learned the most from his ligament injury in his foot. That was when he sat down with Brian and learned they both needed to communicate better; when he accepted that he wasn’t going out and fighting on his own but he had a team that he could turn to. Tracy had taught him how to do that - when he had returned to the ice and she helped him rebuild his skating almost totally from scratch. That was when he finally started paying attention to his body, caring for it, trying to protect it from getting hurt again. Maybe if he was stronger, fitter, ate well and trained smarter...maybe those crushing lows and painful injuries wouldn’t come.

Yuzuru never wanted to fear for the longevity of his career ever again.

Yuzuru understood why it would be important to Nathan that Mai reached out to him while he was injured. That summer when Yuzuru was healing his foot had been when Yuzuru had gotten closer to Shoma. He remembered being in the hotel room in Boston, leaning on Shoma, being comforted by cautious fingers running through his hair and the way Shoma had kept in touch through Yuzuru’s rehabilitation. Talking about games and TV and manga he was reading, but also listening when Yuzuru needed to unload. Wishing him well. Celebrating his return to the ice.  


Yuzuru smiled wistfully. “You learn a lot when bad things happen.”

“Yeah, you’ve been unlucky with injuries. You would understand what I mean,” Nathan said with hum of acknowledgement. “I just. I remember her being nice to me even though she didn’t have to. So I can’t help but root for her. She’s had rough times too.”

Yuzuru made a soft sound of agreement. It could be tough, knowing everyone the way they did. He rooted for all of them, he wanted all of them to reach their goals and achieve their dreams. But the ladies only had two spots for the Olympics, and five people fighting for the spot. Someone would be disappointed. Some of them would have to wait.

“Mostly Nam likes to mess with me. Then others started joining in,” Nathan continued, pausing to take a mouthful of water. He looked down shyly. “But. I do like her. It’s hard not to.”

“Do you mind? People messing with you,” Yuzuru asked. He supposed it would depend on how frequently people ribbed him for it, but if he did have affections for Mai, Yuzuru could imagine it wasn’t fun to have people joke about it.

“No.” Nathan paused but shook his head as if to reaffirm it  “It’s kind of annoying but even when other people join in it’s kinda nice. Like we’re all friends.”

Yuzuru nodded cheerfully. “It’s a good feeling.”

“Since we’re doing locker room chats…” Nathan’s eyes raised back up, looking mischievous.  “What about you? Anyone you like?”

Yuzuru froze.

Nathan laughed and shook his head. “I’m kidding! I know you can’t answer questions like that.”

“What do you mean?”

Nathan goggled at him. “You’re...You’re like a real celebrity.”

Yuzuru chuckled, embarrassed. There was a strange distinction between Yuzuru and the other skaters that could be uncomfortable. The number of Japanese media there to cover Yuzuru’s performance could make up half of all the media present, the fans that flocked to him. There was a cultural element. Western public figures dated and did whatever and so long as they didn’t do anything illegal no one cared. Japanese public figures were held to different standards.

Though he supposed Nathan was beginning to get a taste of what that kind of attention would be like. It would only get worse as the season went on and the Olympics got closer. The attention couldn't grow for Yuzuru, the pressure couldn't become much more than it already was.  The sport might not be as popular in America as it was in Japan or Russia, but Nathan was bound to feel the burden of being the top man in his country with a real chance of getting an Olympic medal. He was just a kid.  


“I guess? It sucks sometimes.”

“I bet,” Nathan said with some sympathy. “You must get really lonely? I know you can’t go out much.”

Yuzuru was lonely a lot, in some respects. Not as much now as he once was. For a long time, it felt like he was standing alone. He didn’t feel like that so much anymore, but there was still distance, and an unwillingness to be completely open with anyone or allow himself to rely on anyone. He had people he could be friendly with, people he connected with. But even friends had to be held at arm's length. They never talked as much as they could, as much as they wanted to. Part of that was down to Yuzuru living in Canada, but some of it was Yuzuru holding back. He didn’t socialise in Canada outside the Cricket Club, and even there he was limited to training sessions.

He longed to be close to people. He liked being around others and laughing, talking, playing. But other people could be confusing and frustrating and stressful to deal with. It could get too much. He needed to be alone a lot. To focus, and gather himself to do the things he did.

Still, if he reached out, he knew there would be someone to take his hand. He had people to turn to.

Yuzuru sniffed and screwed the cap back onto his water bottle. "Maybe it's not as bad as you think."

When they decided it was time to move, Nathan held out his hand to help Yuzuru up off the floor. Yuzuru took it.  


***  


Yuzuru’s aims for this competition were simple: to land the quad lutz and generally do better in the free skate than he had at Autumn Classic, and to get the combination in his short program. He had a trend when it came to how his seasons went. It would start with a so-so Challenger event, then he’d bomb his short program in the first Grand Prix event, do well at NHK, peak at GPF and then level out for the second half of the season. He wanted to at least raise his average and close to gap between his best and worst scores. At the very least, he wanted to not bomb.

Though, he already had bombed. Oh well. Hopefully, that meant his worst performance was behind him.

Yuzuru changed the music coming through his earphones to something that would pump him up. He was finding it easier to concentrate here. Maybe because he was no longer worried about his knee or any other part of him being a potential hindrance. He felt good, fit.

There would be no outside distractions, either. Most people knew not to try to contact him during competitions, and Shoma was mindful not to disturb Yuzuru too much. But it wouldn’t be an issue here. Shoma would be flying to Canada while Yuzuru did his short Program, and recovering from the jet lag that was bound to hit him with force while Yuzuru completed his free skate.

> _I’ll wish you luck now because I’ll miss the whole thing ;~;_

That was what Shoma had sent to him before he boarded his plane. It was a smart plan that Yuzuru understood. Shoma didn’t cope well with travelling or disturbances to his normal sleep schedule. Yuzuru suspected he also found it difficult to adapt to unfamiliar environments. Like a kind of tropical fish. He wilted when things weren’t quite right.

He wouldn't compete in Canada for another week, but he needed that time to adjust. He would do the same for his next competition too. It sucked because they’d be unlikely to have any overlap where they’d both be in the same country and have even one viable day to meet. But it worked out. They’d both end up giving each other space precisely when they needed it naturally.

> _Let me know you landed safely <3 _

That was all Yuzuru would need from him. Just an update. Truthfully, he would be better off with them not having much contact during the event. Yuzuru needed space to concentrate and calm himself.

Yuzuru wished he had got himself to Russia earlier than he had. He didn’t typically suffer from jetlag. Not for long, anyway. But for some reason, this time, it seemed to cling to him.

When the time came for Yuzuru to skate his short program, he still had some fogginess in his mind and slowness in his limbs. The warm-up was not exactly great. He had to put that behind him.

He stood at the centre of the ice and closed his eyes. Piano, the opening notes and a moment of stillness to regulate his breathing. He rolled his head and set off. Three-turn, choctaw, a sharp bracket turn and a long glide with his arms outstretched. The sleeves of his outfit fluttered. He had changed the top. Gone were the kintsugi inspired golden slashes up the sides of the top. He was no longer mending himself after being broken. He had done that, he was whole and had got his retribution. He had proven himself.

The changes were minor. Mostly, he needed a better fit. The golden slashes up the sides had given a heaviness to the bottom of the top, without them the light, loose fabric moved more fluidly with his body and the breeze created from the speed he moved across the ice. The gold accent was now delicate beading on the collar, just around his neck. The designer had thought of it as sunlight - the sky blue graduating to white, the airy quality of the fabric and the light, open feel of his skating making her think of the sky on a spring day. The gold around his neck was also a good reminder of Yuzuru’s goals, but also a kind of ownership of past achievements. He was the current Grand Prix Champion, the World Champion, the Olympic Champion. Gold belonged around his neck. And he would fight to keep it there.  


There was some sluggishness that Yuzuru couldn’t quite shake. He stumbled on the loop but didn’t fall. He got the combination, in a sense, but didn’t quite have the speed for the triple and fell on it.

Still. It wasn’t a disaster. He got what he wanted. No popped jumps, no invalid elements. Yuzuru took his bow with a smile. It was a better performance than what he had delivered at this point in the previous season - so that was something. Even if there was such a strong part of him that craved perfection every single time, he had to bring himself down. Be realistic. Aim for the delivering the best he could on the day and build up so his best days and best performances were coming when he absolutely needed them.

The stuffed toys that fans threw as tokens of their support and appreciation rained down from the stands and covered the ice. Every competition there seemed to be more of them. Yuzuru bowed deeply to the crowd in return, as thanks for their cheers and support. One of the flower boys and broken off from the others and hovered at Yuzuru’s side, handing him a drawing. Yuzuru took it but let it flutter down to the ice as he headed to the barrier. It was safer with the other gifts for now, he was likely to lose it if he tried to keep it with him now.  
He would thank the little boy later with a warm smile and a pat on the head. When he wasn't in a rush to leave the ice for his scores and his mind was in the right state for it.

“That was okay,” Brian assured him with a pat on the shoulder. Yuzuru sat down in the kiss and cry and took the cap off his water bottle. “A few mistakes. But it all comes down to the free skate anyway.”

Yuzuru nodded and waited to see his scores.

It wasn't enough to beat Nathan. But Yuzuru had hit his personal targets. And anything could happen in the free. A six-point gap was not all that discouraging.  


***  


Yuzuru slung his bag over his shoulder, heading out of the locker room. He was done for the day. Now he just wanted to rest, wind down, make sure he was in a good condition to skate the free. He had congratulated Nathan and the young Russian boy who had come third. Dmitri looked delighted to have come third in the short, but he positively beamed when Yuzuru had shaken his hand and pulled him into a quick, tight hug.

Evgenia came down the hallways just as Yuzuru turned into it, her hair pulled up into a ponytail and wearing casual training clothes. Her face brightened as she spotted him. He raised his hand to wave at her and plucked his earphones out of his ears.

“Did you have practice?” Yuzuru asked as they both came to a stop in front of each other, bit confused. He hadn’t seen any of the other girls around, but he could’ve just missed them.

“Later,” Evgenia answered with shake of her head. “I just watch you skate. I love your program.”

“Thank you.” Yuzuru smiled. There was nothing as flattering as another skater admiring your program, but he already knew she was something of a fan of his skating. It never stopped being a joy to hear, though. He supposed that was part of what made skating so enjoyable right now - the way that so many of them enjoyed each other’s skating, across disciplines and within their own. He was proud to skate in an era of mutual respect. They all watched each other, appreciated each other, and grew because of it. “You use Chopin this season too, right?”

Evgenia nodded with a sweet expression. “Nocturne.”

She shifted her weight slightly. Yuzuru had already noticed her favouring her left side, keeping her weight off her right foot. He couldn’t be sure if it was an injury that needed attention or just a twinge she was being cautious with. He didn’t feel like it was right to ask. They were friendly, but not close enough to pry and talk to each other about their condition like that. If he had a problem and Evgenia asked him about it, he’d probably lie. He wouldn't expect her to be honest about it either. They were all constantly lying about injuries, hiding pain, pretending a problem wasn't there.

It was common for them to have _something_. The sport was demanding, ice was hard and could be unforgiving, sometimes jumps and spins and steps just didn’t work with you and sent you crashing down. Sometimes training just took its toll. Good technique minimised the damage you took, but even a textbook jump with a perfect landing was taxing on the body.

“I look forward to watching it,” Yuzuru said, diverting his mind away from her right foot. “Good luck with your competition.” Evgenia smiled. Yuzuru paused for a moment before adding. “Take care of yourself.”

It felt hypocritical. At 17, Yuzuru certainly hadn’t learned to care for his injuries and take note of all aches. He wasn't even sure how much he took those lessons to heart now, or if he'd still try to push through if he was desperate enough. Still, Evgenia was a sweet girl. Talented. She had put in a lot of effort for two years to get to the top of her field. He didn’t want her to stumble this season because of forcing herself to skate on an injury.

Evgenia’s brows drew together for a split second, but her expression quickly cleared.  “You too.” She touched his arm, giving it a friendly pat. “Good luck in the free.”  


***  


“Ready?” Brian asked as Yuzuru stood at the boards. He took one last gulp of water and nodded. Brian took the bottle from him. “You know what to do.”

Yuzuru bowed his head again and tapped the boards, kneeling for a moment, and reached up to squish Pooh’s face. He pushed back and skated away.

His hand flicked up over his head on the first beat of the drum, fire in his eyes. As soon as he took his opening position, he felt the character of the program rise up within him. He wasn’t like Javier, he didn’t purely perform as a character, and he wasn’t quite like Shoma either, who purely performed to capture the music. He was somewhere in the middle; bringing forth some persona, some other version of himself that was influenced and enhanced the mood, colour and story of his music. He wasn’t playing _Seimei_ , he was playing a version of himself that was magical, powerful, wise and strong. He was the _onmyoji_ , and with each gesture, he cast his spell.

He could summon the character of the program so easily, knew the music so intimately, that he could empty his mind and focus entirely on the elements. He gathered speed for the lutz, felt the deep outside edge of the entry, and took off into the air. The rotation was delayed, and his axis was off, but he landed with four rotations and kept his free leg off the ice, right knee bending deep to take the impact and keep a somewhat controlled running edge. Another goal checked off. He landed his first quad lutz in competition.

It wasn’t his best performance. There were errors - the loop popped into a triple, the toe-loop popped into a double, and another struggled landing on the salchow that caused him to miss that planned combination. A little sloppiness in the last few minutes as he started to run out of steam. But it was better than the previous competition. He finished, gasping for air and whole body aching.

“Good job,” Brian said into Yuzuru’s ear as pulled into a hug before Yuzuru left the ice.

“That was hard,” Yuzuru panted, reaching down to slip on his skate guards. He felt the tickle of a bead of sweat making a break for it and running down the side of his face. His stamina wasn’t bad, he had been training well, but the competition schedule could be rough.

They’d build him up in training. Do more full run-throughs. He’d be in shape for NHK.

They sat, waiting for the scores. Yuzuru took deep breaths. He was satisfied.

“This has to be your best first competition ever,” Brian said brightly. “Better than Skate Canada.”

Yuzuru laughed and nodded his head. It really was. This was a victory even if it wasn’t perfect. There were flaws to work on, issues to work out before the next competition. But Yuzuru always started slow and got stronger after the second competition of the season. But this wasn’t a particularly weak competition. A few popped jumps - costly mistakes - and some off landings, one fall, wasn't great. But he didn't totally bomb his programs either.

Yuzuru didn't think it would be enough to win. Not unless Nathan totally fell apart in the free. "In every other way, this is Canada," he told Brian in humour. He'd get the silver medal at his first GP again. That trend would continue.

He was right. It wasn't enough. He won the free skate, but not the competition.

He looked at his annual silver medal. Next time he would get gold.  


***  


Yuzuru lingered after the gala practice. He always enjoyed the gala practices, the exhibitions where they could perform to give their thanks to the crowd and skate without the pressure and restriction of competition. He liked the group numbers, the way they all messed around at practice to let loose once the competitive events were finished. He watched Misha dance to some pop song that played over the sound system, wiggling his hips. Yuzuru wolf-whistled at him, earning a playful wink in response.

“You should make a sexy program for me,” Yuzuru joked, copying some of Misha’s moves, exaggerated and silly. He would love to work with Misha, but it wasn’t that easy. The amount of red tape around him was incredible. Working with new choreographers outside of the Cricket Club was difficult.

Yuzuru drifted around the edges of the ice, eyes passing over the banners hung by fans around the stands. It was overwhelming, how many of them hung for him. His name in Japanese, in English, jumping out at him over and over. Photographs and drawings of himself decorating banners of various sizes draped around the stands in blues and white and red.

It hadn’t always been like this. Yuzuru remembered when he didn’t have much support at all. When he had, truly, stood alone on the ice. He remembered when there was barely anyone in the crowd that cheered for him. He still remembered when he had won his first National Championship, the boos from the crowd when he had stepped onto the podium.

He treasured the support he had now. He was proud, happy when he heard to crowd burst into cheers and applause for the young skaters just coming up from the Junior level, or less well-known skaters who had to fight for the chance to perform internationally. Even when his rivals stepped up onto the centre podium, Yuzuru wanted to hear the crowd cheer for them and was delighted every time they did.

He leaned forward, the barrier digging beneath his ribs, squinting in the dim light to read some of the messages on the banners.There was one in his sight that had seemingly hundreds of little-handwritten messages scrawled in the empty spaces of its design. It was wonderous that so many people took the time to write down their wishes and messages of support for him, even if the chances of him seeing them were slim. Just to get those thoughts out there, into the universe. Just in the hope that their positive energy would somehow reach him.

That night, he skated his _Notte Stellata_ as the swan; the way Tatiana would have envisioned it when she sent the music to him. An ode to the White Legend he had performed so many years ago as his first short program in the senior field, and again when his rink was lost and he performed at charity shows. And the last time he had skated in Russia, at Sochi as his victory lap and his quiet message to the people at home that he was thinking of them. He remembered them. He hadn’t forgotten that some people were still suffering.

This was his starry night. Under the lights, he unfurled his wings.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long ORZ hopefully next chapter won't take as long
> 
> As always, feedback is appreciated and I love reading your comments and seeing your thoughts! :)


	20. Rupture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning ahead for accidents, illnesses and injuries and Yuzuru making some _choices_

**Rupture**

 

“Hey, congratulations!” Yuzuru grinned as Shoma’s face showed up on his computer screen. “You broke my silver streak.”  
  


Yuzuru had waited until after the free skate was over before sending any message to Shoma, to avoid distracting him. He had considered going to Regina, at least for a few days, to hang out after the free skate and leave after the gala. So that they might have some time together. He was still considering it; he had the airline website open with the flight from Toronto to Regina waiting for a spur-of-the-moment, last-minute purchase. It was a little under four hours in the air. That was all that kept them apart.  
  


It was too risky. Yuzuru had two weeks to prepare for his next competition; he couldn’t spare a few days of training to hang out with Shoma. And the area would be brimming with press and fans who would undoubtedly spot and recognise Yuzuru trying to sneak into Shoma’s hotel or hanging out in any of the hotels that were nearby. He could wear a cap and glasses and a facemask and still be spotted in the crowd. Sure, they could brush it off as Yuzuru going to cheer on his teammate, but the idea of anyone questioning why they shared a hotel room for a night sent a shiver through him. Even if it was unlikely, he wasn't sure it was worth it.

So they continued to make do with video calls and messages. But seeing Shoma - hair still a little damp from his shower, face glowing with a smile, eyes shining with the inevitable high of winning. It was frustrating when they were so close, but it was so utterly inconvenient for both of them to be in the same room. 

“Did you watch?” Shoma asked, sounding bright and a bit peppier than he maybe should have been considering the time.

“I did!” Yuzuru nodded, raising his hands to give Shoma a double thumbs-up. “You were great. Especially your short.”  
  


It was a novelty to be able to watch other competitions live and not delayed or resorting to staying up late. He had watched side-by-side with his mother in the comfort of their home, Yuzuru clapping for each successful element while his mom cooed over Shoma’s costumes. She would nudge him while Shoma smiled into the camera when he got his scores, and Yuzuru would try to disguise a blush.

It was strange to watch the competition, assessing the field as a fellow competitor while also viewing as a fan of the sport and following Shoma as a rival, as a friend but also as his boyfriend. It left him with a pleasant mix of feeling proud of Shoma, but also motivated to do better, and well informed of where everyone was regarding program development and scoring. He understood why others tended to not keep up with competitions they weren’t attending - wanting to focus solely on their skating and their individual development from one event to the next. Yuzuru respected that and would like to take that outlook someday, but right now his focus was on winning as much as it was on wanting to better himself. The two goals were intrinsically connected, but they still needed equal attention.

He loved to watch Shoma skate. He had for a while - dipping out of media interviews when possible to catch Shoma’s performance, watching him the last year he was a junior, peeking out of the curtains at ice shows to watch him. It was interesting to see him develop year by year, and seeing the way other skaters had influenced him. Yuzuru was very much a product of skaters he admired as a child. When he looked at his skating, he saw the ambition and love of jumps from Plushenko, the care for beauty and flow from Johnny. He saw the time he had put into polishing his spins after watching Stephane, and the advice Takahito had given him while he developed his jumps, taking care of timing and axis. In his quad salchow especially he saw Javier; all the times Yuzuru watched him in practice and the times when Javier had worked with him behind Brian’s back to help him build the salchow up, all the times Javier had come over to pick him up off the ice after falling on it. He saw all the marks different coaches had left on him - the technique Tatsuki had drilled into him, the talent Nanami had shaped and the skills she had honed with him, the polish Brian had applied. He saw the expressiveness he picked up from working with Jeffrey and the detail he inherited from Shae-Lynn.

Shoma had a more obvious inspiration in Daisuke. It was interesting to see him gradually step out from under his idol’s shadow and craft a style more his own. He was still finding himself. Yuzuru was excited to see how he would grow.  
  


Yuzuru pointed out the little flourishes he liked from the programs - mimicking the way Shoma moved his arms and used his hands. Shoma cracked up, miming back at him, laughing at Yuzuru’s attempt to copy his facial expression.

“You look like you have a headache!”

“That’s the face you make!” Yuzuru shot back. Shoma laughed harder. “Really though, you were great.”

“The short was good; the free was messy.” Shoma wrinkled his nose, beating back the compliment.

Yuzuru pulled a face at him. He did that a lot, too much maybe. Not easily accepting compliments was cultural, but offing self-criticism in response was not.   
Now wasn't the time to chide Shoma for his habit of selling himself short. Yuzuru didn't want to make him uncomfortable either; which was all aggressively praising him, the way Yuzuru wanted to, was likely to achieve. 

Yuzuru decided to shift the topic elsewhere. Like how pretty Shoma looked. “My mom likes your costumes a lot.”

“You watched with your mom?” Shoma asked, wide-eyed and looking somewhat mortified at the idea. He hugged something to his chest. Yuzuru could only see the top of it, but it was round and brown.

“Yeah. It’s not like she’s not watched you before.” Yuzuru leaned forward and squinted as if that would help him see beyond the dimensions of the screen. “What is that?”

Shoma giggled and held up the oddly shaped cushion he was cuddling up to. “I think it’s a chicken leg?”  
  


Yuzuru had seen it on TV when it had been thrown and had laughed as it was displayed in the kiss and cry. Yuzuru liked that the trend of throwing soft toys on the ice to show appreciation after a performance had grown. Shoma tended to keep more of them that Yuzuru did - purely because Yuzuru couldn’t possibly keep all the toys thrown at him. Many were donated to hospitals and children’s charities in the local area. Yuzuru liked that a lot. The skaters got the tokens of support, and in turn, gave back to wherever they were competing.

Shoma’s fans seemed to have a good sense of humour. They had started to throw cushions in the shape of vegetables and meats at him. Yuzuru figured that was what he deserved for having the eating habits of a fussy five-year-old. Yuzuru could be picky too, but Shoma was a whole other level.

“Are you going to keep it?” Yuzuru asked, amused.

Shoma nodded. “It’s comfy to lie on.”

“You’re going to have a room of food-related pillows before the year is out,” Yuzuru teased. Shoma laughed in that little nasal giggle he did that made Yuzuru feel a warm tug in his chest like he wanted to melt through the screen to ruffle Shoma’s hair.  
  


***  
  


Yuzuru couldn’t quite put his finger on what was bothering him, but there was a fluttering of nervousness at the edge of his consciousness that had him restless and fidgety.

Shoma had messaged him to let him know he landed safely in Japan a day ago, Yuzuru had responded with his usual rabbit stickers and a screenshot of a funny glitch on his game that caused his character to walk around without a head until he completed the mission. Shoma had replied the way he usually would, but his responses were short and slow.

> _Hey, are you okay?_

He saw Shoma start to type a response, and then stop, sending a voice note instead. He did that when he was too tired to type. Yuzuru didn’t mind. He liked hearing Shoma’s voice.

“Sorry. I feel sick lately.” Shoma’s voice sounded rough and scratchy, even through tinny phone speakers. “It’s getting worse. So, if I don’t reply, that’s why.”

Yuzuru felt a pang of sympathy. Getting sick during the season sucked.

> _Let me know when you’re feeling better (,,꒪꒫꒪,,)_

Shoma’s voice rang out from his phone again. He sounded miserable. “I will. I hope it’s just a cold.”

Yuzuru followed up with a sad face and a cute picture of cats hugging. It was a helpless situation. There was nothing he could do to make Shoma feel better any faster. He didn’t send anything else after that. He didn’t expect Shoma to respond if he did, but he also felt like there was nothing worthwhile to say that would be worth disturbing Shoma’s rest.

 

Yuzuru checked his phone when he woke. And again, on the way to the rink and in breaks during training, after training, while studying, before he slept… 

He still needed to train; neaten up the step sequence, drive all the jump entries deeper into his muscle memory, increase confidence in the lutz. When he had introduced the loop, he had landed it in the first competition and struggled with it for the next few. He wanted to get the lutz at NHK without the tightness and the struggle to keep his free leg off the ice. 

He set himself an allowance. One full run-through, or five good jumps, and he could go for a quick break to drink some water and check to see if Shoma had messaged him. That seemed reasonable.  
  


“Yuzuru!” Tracy sighed, exasperated. “What on Earth...”

“Huh?” Yuzuru locked his phone and slid it back into the pocket of his jacket.

“You’ve been glued to your phone the past couple of days,” she pointed out. It was a bit of a hyperbole, but it was behaviour that would naturally stand out as being uncharacteristic. “Why are you looking at it so much?”

Yuzuru looked at her guiltily. “It’s Shoma.”

Tracy gave him a look. “You need to tell him to not message you during practice-”

“No,” Yuzuru shook his head, brows furrowing unhappily. “He got sick. I told him to message when he’s better but no message.”

Tracy’s expression softened. 

“Yuzuru,” she said gently. “You told me you didn’t want your relationship with Shoma to interrupt your training.”

Yuzuru flushed. “I’ll keep phone in locker tomorrow,” he muttered, passing his jacket to Tracy so she could at least keep the temptation away from him. Now wasn’t a good time for distractions. He had little under a week before he’d be heading out to Japan to compete. He needed to get his stamina up more and iron out the habitual errors he made when his focus wasn’t entirely there.

“You’re worried, I get it.” Tracy grimaced as she folded Yuzuru’s jacket over her arm. “Seems like this is an unlucky week for it. Javi’s apparently sick too.”

“Really?” Yuzuru bit his lip unhappily. That was not good. Javier was in China already, and the competition had already begun. Being sick at any point in the season was dreadful, but getting sick in the middle of an event was a special kind of hell where you had to weigh up the likelihood of you injuring yourself if you tried to skate and if the competition in question would be worth the risk. It ended up being a fight between the body and the mind. Or, for Yuzuru, a battle between his better sense and his stubbornness.

“Just an upset tummy, I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Tracy assured him. “Okay. I want you to run through your steps again. You're rushing them, and it's going to cost you if you keep it up.”  
  


Yuzuru nodded and skated away. The fluttering in his stomach hadn’t abated. Still no word from Shoma, and now Javier was on his mind too…

Sweat prickled at Yuzuru’s hairline. He paused to let Junhwan fly past him, before setting up the motions to enter his step sequence for another run-through. He needed to clear his head.  
  


***  
  


Javier wasn’t fine. Yuzuru didn’t watch. After a night of fitful sleep - tossing and turning, having his rest disturbed by the blankets being too warm and heavy but also being too cold without them - he had woken up early. Upon checking the results, it was clear some kind of disaster happened. Javier finished sixth.  
  


Javier wouldn’t make it to the final. Even if he won his next competition, there was no way he could get the points to qualify. Not without every other man at the top of the field having a complete nightmare in their second assignment. And even then, the chances were slim. It would be the first time in years he that he won’t make it hadn't made it.

Before the last Olympics. That was the last time Javier dropped so low at a Grand Prix assignment. Yuzuru wondered if that would be playing on his mind. He had wanted, so badly, to get a medal at Sochi. And he had been devastated when he hadn’t been able to. In some ways, Yuzuru was glad he hadn’t. If Javier had made it to the podium in Sochi, he would’ve retired. Javier had only blossomed fully within the past few years. He would’ve missed out on that if he had never had that taste of failure.

Still, Yuzuru wanted to check on him.

Javier accepted Yuzuru’s offer of a video call quickly. He had dark circles under his eyes and only managed the weakest attempt of a smile.

“I’m sorry,” Yuzuru said immediately. “How are you?”

“Eh, kinda crappy.” Javier shrugged, perhaps pushing down the frustration and disappointment he was feeling. Maybe a few years ago, Yuzuru would’ve thought Javier would have been afraid too. But he didn’t see any brewing panic in Javier’s eyes or defensiveness in his body language. He was facing the camera head-on, his shoulders were still high rather than slumped forwards. There was obvious dissatisfaction in his grimace, but he didn’t seem to be beating himself up over it. “A few others have got something. It might’ve been the shrimp. I get why you have your own cook now."  
  


Yuzuru smiled. He was lucky to have access to so many resources that helped him, to have sponsors give him things that made competitions more bearable. Like the speciality meals that followed the guidelines planned out by a nutritionist. Javier didn’t have that kind of thing.

However, Yuzuru was also not dumb enough to eat seafood before a competition.

“Did you talk to another person?”

Javier hesitated for a split second before answering. “Marina, she talked to me as soon as I got back to the hotel.”

“Ah.” Now the new girlfriend had a name. It didn’t bother Yuzuru the way he thought it might. His smile grew, instead of fading. “Maybe she made you calmer.”

“Yeah, a little bit,” Javier chuckled. The tension that had appeared when mentioning his girlfriend receding once more.

Yuzuru was glad. He wanted to comfort Javier if he needed it, make him feel better, not add to his stress. “Will you come back to Toronto?”

Javier shook his head. “No. I’ll go to Spain so I’m not adjusting to Canada time only to go to Europe straight away.”

“Oh.” Yuzuru tilted his head, surprised but pleased.  “I thought maybe you’d withdraw from France. Like Patrick.”  
  


Shoma had mentioned feeling sympathy for Patrick. He hadn’t performed well, hadn’t shown his best, certainly not given his home crowd the performance he wanted. His luggage had gone missing and had been delayed getting to him. Shoma had noted he seemed...off. Not himself. Empty.

He withdrew from NHK, cutting down the number of men Yuzuru would compete against there. It was a shame. Yuzuru and Patrick had never been close, at one point Yuzuru was pretty sure he hated him. He understood why. But Yuzuru had a lot of respect for him, and their relationship had defrosted in recent years. He skated beautifully. Yuzuru enjoyed competing with him. Part of him still saw Patrick as someone he had to work hard to beat, even if he had found it difficult to adjust after coming back after the break.  
  


“I don’t have the problem Patrick has right now,” Javier said, sounding grim. That was some relief. Patrick seemed to have lost all motivation. Totally burnt out. Even if they weren’t close, it was the saddest thing to see in a fellow skater. Javier raised a shoulder, back to his usual pitch and cadence. “I won’t get to the final, but I can at least get one more competition in before Europeans, you know? One where I’m not feeling like crap...I don’t want that to be what everyone thinks of next time I skate.”

“Maybe not going to final is a good thing,” Yuzuru nodded, encouraging. “More time to prepare for European and Olympics.”

“Yeah, it works out. I was thinking of not going to the final even if I qualified.”

“It’s smart,” Yuzuru said honestly. Holding back early on in the season to prepare for a single event later was a reasonable strategy. Javier was good at delivering right when he absolutely needed to. Reducing his stress by taking himself out of one major competition and making the two assignments little more than warm-ups could help him. Especially if he was taking that attitude about it. Yuzuru well-practised for emphasis.  “Saving best for later.”

“Yeah.” Javier leaned forwards, smiling mischievously. “So are you thinking of not going to the final too?”

“I’m too greedy. I want five gold.” 

They both laughed. Yuzuru knew that as soon as Javier saw the ice again, he’d be practising hard. He knew that as soon as the call ended, Javier’s smile would drop again. But his state wasn’t anywhere near as bad as Yuzuru feared. For now, it was good to laugh together. Yuzuru turned more sincere. “You can get six gold in Europe.”

Javier bowed his head. “That would be nice.”

“I cheer for you.” Yuzuru paused. He wondered if Javier was still sick. The shadows under his eyes and the washed-out look to his skin made Yuzuru suspect he was. “You look tired.”

“It’s been rough.”

Yuzuru made a soft, urging sound. “Rest. Feel better.”

Javier nodded. “You too,” he said, concern pinching at the corner of his eyes. “You look kind of pale. Are you okay?”

“Maybe just tired, I couldn’t sleep well.” Yuzuru shrugged. “I’m okay.”

Javier hadn’t been convinced, but let Yuzuru go anyway. It was about time that Javier slept anyway, but also approaching the time Yuzuru should get ready for practice. 

If he was honest with himself, he didn’t want to do that. He wanted to crawl back into bed and wrap himself up in the blankets to chase away the weird cold feeling that was settling in the pit of his stomach. 

He hoped it was little more than a general feeling of dread that would pass in the coming days. A natural response to almost everyone around him having a hard time in one way or another. Junhwan with his persisting hip pain, Shoma dropping off the face of the planet, Javier with his food poisoning...

 

Yuzuru still hadn’t gotten any update from Shoma. He kept his promise to Tracy and locked up his phone while he was training and left his worries locked up alongside it. There was less than a week left until Yuzuru would be due to fly to Japan - he needed to make sure he was in a good enough condition to perform and build up his stamina. He had to put other things out of his mind when he stepped on the ice.

He was trying, but it wasn’t easy. For the most part, he was doing okay. The image of what he needed to do was coming to him. It didn’t always mean that he would reproduce it, but when he could clearly visualise himself from some outside vantage point, picture the way his body should move, he could follow that image. 

But his body wasn’t quite doing what he needed it to do. Run-throughs were still a struggle; his body was stubbornly refusing to build up stamina and felt more sluggish than it should at this point.

It was nothing. It was fine. He didn’t want to be at 100% right now anyway. He wanted to be closer to 80% was all. Almost his best, but not quite. Not a peak, but moving towards it. He wasn’t freaking out.

 

It was more impatience than misplaced anxiety. Yuzuru was aware than Shoma was supposed to fly to France around the same time. If he were still sick, that wouldn’t happen. Withdrawing from competition now would mean no final. It would be an awful pity if Shoma couldn’t qualify when the final was in his hometown. It was bad enough that Javier was out.

> _Ryu, have you heard from Shoma?_

Ryuju was in Nagoya; he was the most likely to know if Shoma center with a really terrible cold or something much worse. Since Keiji was the second most likely person to know something about Shoma, Yuzuru asked in their little group chat. Shoma had been added to it a few times, but he left every time because he found group chats in general annoying. The longest he lasted was a week; now it barely took him an hour before he got fed up with the notifications. Last time they had only added him to tease him.

_**Ryuju:** No. He’s not been at the rink for a few days. Why? _

Yuzuru chewed his lip. Almost a week of no training wasn’t good and would take just as long to recover from.

> _He mentioned being sick a couple of days ago and I’ve not heard from him since._

> _I’m worried..._

Keiji was entirely unhelpful, only contributing an obnoxious sticker and a long ‘ _aww_ ’. Yuzuru was going to snark at him, but he followed up with another message.

_**Keiji:** When was the last time you spoke to him? _

_ > 4 days ago… _

Yuzuru knew he was being ridiculous. Four days was not a long time. He could comfortably go a few weeks without talking to most other friends if they were busy or had nothing specific to talk about. Shoma wasn’t just a friend, but he knew they would go a week or two around competition when contact wouldn't happen. He had gotten accustomed to more frequent contact with Shoma, with them talking in some form at least every other day, but it wasn’t a necessity...

Ryuju, at least, seemed more sympathetic. Even if he didn’t understand why Yuzuru would care so much.

_**Ryuju:** If you’re really worried I can give you Itsuki’s Line ID? _

Yuzuru took up that offer, but he wasn’t sure if he’d use it. He sent the friend request anyway but put his phone down when his mom called him for dinner. He ate but didn’t taste anything. His mind was too preoccupied. It was tempting to call Itsuki or something, but it also felt underhanded. He didn’t know if Shoma would be comfortable with him contacting his brother, but he also didn’t want to harass Shoma if he was ill.

 

Yuzuru picked at his food. He couldn’t bring himself to have much of an appetite. Chewing and swallowing felt like a chore, but Yuzuru didn’t want to tempt fate by skipping a meal while sickness was in the air. Eating was often more a matter of necessity rather than pleasure. Save the few moments Yuzuru let himself have a treat: salty fries and fizzy drinks after a competition, over-sweet hot chocolate on the coldest days, _shirokuma_ with his sister or friends on hot summer days in Japan, too much candy with Shoma while they lay on the bed and laughed between sticky kisses. Those were the kinds of things he could never eat much of in one sitting or with any regularity, which was why they stood out as treats to be savoured. Everyday meals were purely to fuel his body to do things. He had things he liked - _tamago gohan_ in the morning, the lighter soups he’d eat for competitions, the grilled meat and sushi he’d get when they ate out. But he didn’t have a lot of enthusiasm for food. Especially not in the past few days. He didn’t manage to get much down, but an attempt was made

Maybe it was nervousness. Yuzuru pondered how off he had felt lately as he locked the bathroom door and turned on the shower. The persistent heaviness in his limbs, the reoccurring leaden feeling in his stomach, the occasional shivers that shook down his spine for no reason. Even as he put his clothes to one side and slipped under the hot spray, he felt weak and unusually tired. He had a few practices that, while not being disastrous, weren’t great either. He was in the strange in-between period, when the next competition was close but also far enough away that he was completely enveloped in the preparations, focused and energised, ready to go. It was looming over him. He was looking forward to it because NHK was usually a solid event for him. He loved performing his programs to the Japanese home-crowd and giving them a show, giving them a gold medal.

Yuzuru closed his eyes and tipped his head back to rinse his hair. He’d call Itsuki. Shoma might not like it, but hopefully, he would appreciate that Yuzuru was concerned and not find it overbearing. He checked the time in Japan as he towelled his wet hair and thought over what to say to not sound as shrill as he felt he was being. He opted to ask directly. Get the whole thing over and done with as fast as possible so he could stop driving himself nuts.

After he dried his hair, Yuzuru called Itsuki. Just to ask if Shoma was okay.

“He’s got the flu,” was Itsuki’s matter-of-fact response.

Yuzuru made a sad, pouty little whine from the back of his throat without meaning to. The flu was bad news. Yuzuru distinctly remembered the dizziness and lethargy that had him withdrawing from Nationals last year. “Oh.”

“He’s been mostly asleep for a few days, but his fever has started to come down,” Itsuki added, his voice muffled through the phone. “I’ll let him know you’re worried.”

“Thank you,” Yuzuru said. Knowing the fever had broken was some comfort. He would probably still have enough time to totally shake off the last of the fever to go to France, but there was no way he’d be in good condition for it. Still, Yuzuru knew that if he were in that position, he’d probably skate while still recovering. Shoma would need to make the podium in France to get to the Final. He’d only have the chance if he competed. If he withdrew, there was no chance at all. Shoma wasn’t as loud about it as Yuzuru was, but he was as driven and as hungry for medals. He would want to at least try.

It was a novelty to be the person on the other side of that attitude. Part of Yuzuru wanted Shoma to give himself all the time he needed to fully recover and get himself back to his best. But he also recognised that he needed to compete, and respected that will to fight.  
  


“Why didn’t you message him?”

Yuzuru snapped back to attention. “Huh?”

Itsuki sighed heavily down the phone. “He’s sick, but he’s not dead. He can still read. He was still awake to eat and take medicine,” he said, full of teenage scorn. “You could’ve sent him a message to cheer him up or something and let him know you were thinking of him. He might have appreciated that.”

“I-” Yuzuru paused, blinking slowly, a little gobsmacked to be getting called out by Shoma’s kid brother. “I was waiting for him to message me?”

“He’s sick?” Itsuki pointed out, with the tone of someone who knew they were stating the obvious. “Also, he assumed you were busy training for NHK, so he didn’t want to whine at you.”  
  


Yuzuru felt a cold feeling wash over him as if the blood dropped from his face and rushed down to his stomach to make him feel queasy. He had, technically, been busy training for NHK. But that wasn’t why he hadn’t been trying to talk to Shoma for the past few days. It hadn’t occurred to him that Shoma, across on the other side of the world, might be waiting for Yuzuru to message him to at least let him know he cared.

Yuzuru chewed on his lip, miserable. “I didn’t want to bug him while he was sick.”

“Oh my God, you are an _adult_ ,” Itsuki said in the obnoxious cadence of a teen. Yuzuru suddenly understood why Brian used to turn to Tracy and complain about ‘attitude’. Itsuki wasn’t particularly annoying, but he was doing a wonderful job of making Yuzuru feel like an idiot. “I expect this from Sho, but not _you_.”

Yuzuru felt flustered and hot with shame. He numbly wished he knew what on Earth his body’s thermostat was doing because the rapid fluctuation from cold to warm made him dizzy. “I’ll...message him.”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for letting me know he’s getting better,” Yuzuru added in a small voice.

Itsuki sighed again, but this time it was less irritated and more sympathetic. “No problem,” he said charitably. “I get the feeling you’re not great at this boyfriend thing, are you?”

“I guess not.” Yuzuru paused, lips twitching in amusement. He couldn’t believe he was getting a relationship talk from a kid. “Wait, aren’t you, like, sixteen?”

“Yeah. But I know my brother way better than you do,” Itsuki replied, that attitude creeping back in. “You should maybe work on that.”  
  


Yuzuru messaged Shoma and got a response. He was getting better. He would go to France and do whatever he could. But the weird feeling didn't leave Yuzuru. Turns out it wasn’t worry, and it wasn’t pre-competition nerves.  
  


Yuzuru had a fever.  
  


A _mild_ fever. One that had, apparently, been crawling higher over the past couple of days. Slow enough that he had barely noticed, and low enough that he was still able to function.

38.7 degrees. Enough to feel shitty, but not enough that it was immediately clear he couldn’t compete. Yuzuru hoped this was its peak. He had some time to bring it down. But it did mean no training before he left Toronto and then trying to rest and stay hydrated on a flight. Yuzuru let his mom drag him to a doctor's office to get checked over, but was refusing to entertain for a moment that he probably shouldn’t compete. He was willing to accept that he probably wasn’t going to deliver his best, but he still believed he could win, even if he was feeling like crap.  
  


“You should tell Kobayashi,” his mom told him in the car ride back home. Yuzuru scowled. He didn’t want anyone from the JSF worrying about a little fever that would pass within the next few days. Not when they were probably already stressing about Shoma being in bed with a temperature of his own for three days. Shoma still had a week to recover, though. Yuzuru did not.

“I will,” Yuzuru said flatly. “When we land in Japan.”

“Yuzuru.” She didn’t take her eyes off the road, but her tone was warning. “I don’t want you skating with a fever.”  
  


Of course she didn't. Neither did Yuzuru. It had sucked while the fever had been developing and it would be even worse if it didn’t break before practices.

“How about I don’t go on the ice until my temperature is below thirty-eight.”

This wasn’t much of an offer, it wasn’t really a compromise, because he had been more or less told by Tracy and Ghislain that they would not let him practice in Canada or in Japan until his fever had reasonably subsided when he called to inform them that he wouldn’t be going in. But his mother didn’t know that.

She stopped at the red light and shot Yuzuru a sideways look. “Can I get that in writing?”

 

***

 

The flight was awful.

The day of rest had done him good; his temperature had started to go down. But he was still above 38 degrees, and the stuffy airplane didn’t help. He drank water, took ibuprofen and lay cool clothes on his head while piling blankets over his body. Despite his efforts, his fever remained static. Low enough that his head wasn’t completely foggy, lingering lethargy was more from jet-lag but still too high for anyone to comfortably endorse him doing anything.

> _I’m flying out now. Good luck! Have a good practice!_

Yuzuru wouldn’t be going to the first practice, but he wasn’t telling Shoma that. He got nervous enough of planes, that was probably why jetlag ravaged him as hard as it did because he couldn’t sleep the whole time he was flying. The last thing Yuzuru wanted was to dump one more thing on Shoma that could stress him out. Especially since it might not even matter. Yuzuru wasn’t seriously ill, just not at his best. He would skip a practice day, sleep off the last of his fever and try to skate however well he could.

“You should take out the quad lutz,” Ghislain told him. “Probably the loop too.”

Yuzuru had hummed and nodded. “Maybe.”  
  


It was annoying, the prospect of doing another competition without those jumps. He wanted that layout to be well-practised in competition before the Olympics rolled around. At this rate, he wouldn’t have that. He also didn’t think he could afford a repeat of Autumn Classic. Maybe he could still make the podium, even take gold, but he wasn’t sure how it would affect his reputation if he presented a watered-down layout riddled with errors at a Grand Prix event. It should have been a trivial thing, the skating done on the day should speak for itself and be the only thing factoring into to the scores for any given performance at any given competition. But that wasn’t the case - the perception the judges had, the expectations they held always came into play.

That was why Satoko could get under-rotations called when another lady on the field who made the same mistake the same way to the same degree didn’t get the call. Because that was Satoko’s reputation now. Or why Boyang wouldn’t see a growth in his performance components score for at least another season despite improvements, because it was his reputation to be good at jumping and little else. In some ways, Yuzuru’s achievements had bitten him on the ass, because the judges had seen the back-to-back clean programs and come to expect that kind of quality at all times, so when he made mistakes, he was penalised perhaps more severely than others.

Yuzuru had seen how a season of struggling had affected his reputation reflected in his score at worlds - his free program had been perfect, but judges were shy about giving any of his elements or components full marks. Because by that point the program itself had its own reputation - not as good as its predecessor. Perhaps it didn’t matter - because he had won regardless and set a high score anyway. But it remained in the back of his mind. His performance at World’s re-established his reputation as the best, but he had to keep up a strong image if he wanted to be scored as a favourite to win during the Olympics.

He didn't want to think about this kind of thing at all. He just wanted to skate his best, the way he wanted to skate and be done with it. But winning a second Olympic gold was everything. He had to consider every factor that went into realising the dream.

 

***

 

Yuzuru glanced around the room habitually as he stretched out his legs, flexing his toes while he reached forwards and grabbed the space beneath them. There was a nice group this year, a lot of familiar faces, a few Yuzuru hadn’t competed with in a while. Nam, as usual, high fived him in greeting while Hiroki had bowed at the waist and scuttled away. The older skaters Yuzuru was less familiar with gave him smiles and respectful nods, while Jason had bounded over like a puppy. It was a shame that Patrick had withdrawn.

“Take it easy,” Ghislain urged as Yuzuru warmed up. “Don’t push yourself too much.”

Yuzuru nodded, but he thought it was necessary to push himself in some way. He had already missed two official practices. He needed to know what he was capable of in his current condition. If he couldn’t land the loop or the lutz, he’d take them out again. If he could just about struggle through, then that would be what he would do. Ghislain probably knew that, judging from the way he looked at Yuzuru. They worked together enough for him to be able to predict how Yuzuru would feel. That was probably why he agreed to run through the free program that day - to see if Yuzuru had the energy for the full 4 and a half minutes, to give him a chance to see what he could do. The short program was familiar, a little less taxing.

It was difficult. Even with the fever down, Yuzuru felt heaviness in his limbs and a weakness in his muscles that stubbornly wouldn’t ease. The combination of fever and days off the ice making it hard to get the height he wanted on the jumps he attempted. But it was okay. He got out a few triple axels, the combination for his short... He had enough to compete. It was tough but doable. So long as he tried the jumps, and landed enough of them, he’d be okay.  
  


Yuzuru decided to try the lutz when the announcer called for the next skater to prepare. The opening notes of Brezina’s short program rang out, bouncing off the walls of the rink. Yuzuru didn’t try steps going into the jump, got himself some speed and glided back, deepening the outside edge on his left foot and striking the ice with his right. The takeoff felt okay, but the height was lacking and his axis was tilted. For a moment, he thought he could land it, a little under-rotated. Even if it wasn’t perfect, for a split second, he thought he could save it.  
  


He couldn’t.

 

Yuzuru hit the ice. Pain exploded in his ankle and shot up his leg. Enough that he had to take a moment to roll onto his back and collect himself before trying to get back up.

He didn’t even want to try to put weight on his right leg, so avoided it as much as possible as he hauled himself up from the ice. Every time he did put the right foot down, fresh pain flared up.

_Fuck._ Yuzuru cursed mentally. It was bad. He knew it was bad. _Fuck._

It couldn’t be serious. He twisted it a little, that’s all. It would be okay. He just needed to sit down for a moment.

Every nerve of his body seemed jangled from the fall. Shocked and confused, skin tingling, emotionally numb.

Falls happen. Falls are part of skating, part of training. Yuzuru had fallen thousands of times. Sometimes they hurt. Sometimes they bruised. Sometimes they caused injuries. It was only another fall. It was no big deal.

Yuzuru tried to skate to the side of the rink. Pain stabbed up his leg every time he used the right foot to push himself forward on the ice. But it wasn't unbearable. Definitely uncomfortable, but not the worst he had ever felt.  
  


Yuzuru thought back over previous injuries, trying to categorise the type of pain he was feeling now. As bad, maybe worse, than other ankle sprains. Was it as bad as when he tore the ligament in his foot? Possibly not, but he wasn’t sure. Not as bad as the collision in China, or the bruised muscle in his thigh that followed, or the infected wound in his stomach that had flared up afterwards.

Just one more injury to add to the list. It was a bitter thought he had to push away. It couldn’t be bad. It couldn’t be serious. He couldn’t afford this now. He didn’t have time for this.

He looked over at Ghislain and Kikuchi and shook his head, gesturing towards where he would exit the ice. He had to have it looked at and iced immediately if he wanted any chance at all of using it.  
  


A small, hollow voice somewhere inside of him whispered that it wasn’t going to happen. He wasn't going to skate. Not at this competition. Yuzuru tried to suppress that voice. He had to skate because he had to get to the final.    
  


Kobayashi was hovering at the sides, hissing at staff to shoo away the cameras that followed as Yuzuru came through. Kikuchi turned to someone, asking for ice. Ghislain guided Yuzuru to a chair. Kikuchi carefully unlaced the right boot and slid it off. Yuzuru sucked in a breath as the pressure around his ankle was removed.

“It’s swollen,” Kikuchi said, maybe to Yuzuru, maybe to Ghislain or Kobayashi. Maybe to all of them. 

The ice pack came, Kikuchi held it against the ankle and propped it up on his knee temporarily. A cold, sick feeling rolled over Yuzuru.

He had been careful. He had skipped practices. He had waited until his fever had gone down. He had rested when his knee had hurt. He had worked hard to build up his body’s strength and had been eating well and had been training carefully. Months of preparation. A whole summer if training hard, only to have it all potentially undone in a few seconds. One jump. One fall. Game over.

Kobayashi was talking. Ghislain was talking. Kikuchi and the medic who had brought the ice and other people from the JSF and other support staff from the competition were talking. Yuzuru shut it all out, nodding without listening, staring ahead in front of him without blinking.

His ankle was adequately elevated now, resting on a stool that had been brought over at some point while Yuzuru hadn’t been paying attention. There was one pack of ice beneath it, and other on top and draping over the sides. There were beads of water on the plastic bags, slowly gathering to drip down. That was all Yuzuru could see- the hue of his skin, the shape of the ice, the drops of water. The ankle didn’t look obviously injured - the skin was still pale and smooth beneath the bag of ice that enfolded it, no redness or bruises rising to the surface. Just some puffiness. Yuzuru stared at it, the little jut of bone that wasn’t as defined as it’s twin on the left. Everything else was hazy around the edges. Yuzuru could hear voices but couldn't comprehend the words over the sound of blood rushing in his ears.

This couldn't be happening.

The reality of the situation started to settle over Yuzuru, sinking deeper into his awareness. He messed up. Now he was going to have to deal with an injured ankle. All he could hope for was that it wouldn’t be a big problem, but hope was hard to find right at that moment. Yuzuru could feel his spirit dropping through the floor, all the energy being sucked right out of him. This couldn’t be happening. People had come from all over Japan, from other countries, to see him skate. He was going to disappoint so many people.

“They’re about to call you for your run through.”

Yuzuru blinked and raised his eyes. Kobayashi’s voice barely broke through the haze surrounding him.

“I should go back. Finish practice.” Yuzuru’s voice felt dry and rough. It was difficult to get words out. Everything around him felt distant.

Kikuchi looked at him as if he wanted to argue, but instead took the ice off the ankle, and took the foot into his hands. “Let’s see if that’s possible first.”

It was a basic test to see if the ankle could move, if it could take pressure. It hurt. Are weight put on it made pain shoot up the outside of the ankle, moving it in either direction felt stiff and agonising. But Yuzuru tried to stop that from showing in his expression.

“It hurts, but it can move. I’ll see if it’s possible to skate,” Yuzuru said, voice flat. Kobayashi nodded shortly, but her eyebrows were drawn downwards and her lips were thinned.

“Take note of what hurts the most,” Ghislain told him. “Don’t try anything too difficult, take it easy, then come straight back off the ice so we can treat it properly. I’ll tell Brian what happened, okay?”

Yuzuru nodded stiffly and bent down to fasten his boot, pulling the laces tight over the tender swelling. He had been careful. He had told himself no more of this. No more lacing his boots up tight to numb his feet to skate on injuries. Here he was doing it again.

He had thought the pain in his knee, the mere threat of an injury there, was the price he paid for an injury-free season and a second world title. Apparently not.

He knew that injuries were, to a degree, inevitable when doing the kinds of things he was doing. It still felt unfair that he had put years into training for good technique, had years of building up this jump slowly and carefully, waiting to use it in a program when it was ready and he could execute it well, and there was no real benefit to that. The risk stayed the same. No matter how careful he was or how well he trained, how much he listened to his coaches or how well he ate: he still got sick, he still fell. He still got injured. Over and over and over again.

Every time. Every single time he thought things were going well, something happened to send him crashing back down.  
  


Yuzuru felt his throat get tight and his nose twinge, He had to struggle to keep his expression blank, but he couldn’t hold to tears back and the spilled down his cheeks, dripping onto the floor. He tugged on his laces hard and wiped his face with the back of his hand. Kobayashi offered him a tissue and charitably pretended it was for the sweat on his forehead. Nobody else spoke.

Yuzuru stepped onto the ice again with trepidation. The only way he could get through the few first few strokes across the ice and taking place in the centre of the rink for the start of the music was to focus only on analysing the condition of his ankle. The pain was most severe when taking an outside edge. The ankle felt stiff and uncooperative, not wanting to perform turns, seizing and spasming when attempting anything that required speed or a decent edge. Dynamic movement was gone. The ankle could support weight, but it was painful and at times felt unstable, as if it might fold at any moment.

He left the ice again as soon as the music ended. 

 

***

 

Yuzuru lay on his hotel bed with three cushions wedged under his right ankle, which was wrapped in a bandage and a fresh ice pack. Yuzuru had kept an eye on the time, knowing that it should only be iced for around twenty minutes every three hours. Kikuchi was very punctual with his checks to make sure Yuzuru was actually resting and not icing too long or too frequently. His mom was also keeping an eye on him, only leaving to get him some food.

When his phone rang, Yuzuru knew who it was before even looking at the screen. He was more surprised it took this long for Brian to call him.

“So,” Brian started, trying to sound normal but not sure what to do with his voice. “What happened?”

“I don’t know.”

That was a lie. Yuzuru knew exactly what happened as well as he knew any run-down of events he gave wouldn’t be the first or last version Brian would here. Cameras had been at the practice rink, following his the whole time he had skated. They had caught the fall from different angles and plastered them on the news. Yuzuru had watched the footage, looking to work out exactly where he went wrong.

He saw how his right foot had hit the ice. The angle wasn’t right, the blade slipped. Yuzuru had tried to adjust his body to take the fall and reduce the impact, but it happened too fast for him to do anything about it and the fever had left him with slow reflexes. A combination of the momentum upon landing, how his body had been tilted in the air, the weight of his body being entirely on the blade, the force of impact and the counter rotation of the jump sending his body in the opposite direction to his blade took Yuzuru’s ankle and sharply bent it. His ankle twisted. Then it collapsed.

“What are you thinking about doing?” Brian asked, breaking through Yuzuru’s miserable train of thought.

Yuzuru paused. “You’re not going to tell me what I should do?”

“I’m not there,” Brian said tonelessly. Yuzuru wasn’t sure what he meant by that. Speaking on the phone, without being able to see facial expressions, was difficult enough in Japanese but maddening in English. “And you know more about your condition than I do.”

Yuzuru closed his eyes and let his head flop backwards to rest against the wall with a long, tired sigh. “I want to see how it is tomorrow.”

“You haven’t had a doctor check it out?” Brian said it more like a statement. He already knew the answer.

“No,” Yuzuru answered. “Just Kikuchi.”  
  


He knew why Brian bothered asking because he was sure Brian knew exactly why he hadn’t seen a doctor yet - on site or elsewhere. He didn’t want a doctor to give him a diagnosis that would leave him with no option but to withdraw. While he didn’t know for certain how bad the injury was, he could pretend everything was okay.

“Kikuchi thinks it would be smart to withdraw. Ghislain has also said that it seems like the safest option.”

Yuzuru rolled his eyes and sat up straight. He had suspected that Brian had spoken to Ghislain first to get his take.

“Yes it’s safest,” he said testily. “Even if I didn’t fall bad that would be safe option. Maybe I should quit skating completely. Then I definitely never get hurt.”  
  


Brian remained silent for a moment before he spoke again, voice deceptively calm and patient. “If you withdraw now, you would have time to heal the injury and still be ready for the Olympics.”

Yuzuru knew he was right. Even if Yuzuru had to take the entire time between now and February to heal, he could still be ready. The injury to the ligament in his foot had taught both Yuzuru and Brian important lessons of what was possible for Yuzuru, and how to better manage an extended period out of training. If the worst-case scenario came to be true, Yuzuru could still have all of his skills back within as little as two weeks. But that was an argument of logic, and right now Yuzuru was not thinking logically.

He regretted snapping, but it had been a stressful day. Still, his softened his tone. “I don’t want to withdraw if I can maybe still skate. I want to be sure.”

“So tomorrow. What condition does it have to be in?”

“If it moves, I will skate.” Yuzuru felt numb as he spoke. It was the bare minimum requirement. Even if movement was excruciating, he would deal with it.

Brian breathed out as if his soul was exiting his body. “You’re thinking about skating on painkillers.”

“If I have to.” Yuzuru sniffed, shifting on the bed. Not moving for so long was uncomfortable and it was almost time to remove the ice from his ankle.

There was a pause, a moment of silence for Brian to absorb.  “I don't think that is necessary, and I don’t like it, but I can’t stop you.”

“I don’t like it either,” Yuzuru muttered. He hated it. He hated that he had to consider it. “But if I don’t skate I can’t go to final.”

Yuzuru closed his eyes. There were so many stupid, selfish reasons why he didn’t want to withdraw and miss out on qualifying. He knew logically it wouldn’t be the end of the world, but it wasn’t an attractive option. “No final, I lose my title. I lose my streak.”

“Four in a row is a pretty good streak,” Brian said, managing to inject some humour into his voice. “And if you stay for next year you can still get a fifth gold.”

That was true, and Yuzuru did intend on staying for another season. Maybe longer. His future was still very unclear. But it didn’t placate him the way it probably should have.

Brian continued, tone shifting back to something more authoritative. “If that’s what you are going to do, take out the loop and the lutz.”

Yuzuru sighed. He knew he really didn’t have a choice on that front anyway.

“Okay.” 

 

***

 

Whatever Yuzuru had expected the next morning, it wasn’t what he woke up to. Whatever he had hoped for, it wasn’t what he got.

He had done everything he could. He had iced the ankle for no more than twenty minutes every two to three hours, he had applied a compression bandage for twelve hours, he rested the ankle completely and his mother had arranged food for him that was supposed to help with inflammation. He wanted to wake up and see the swelling had gone down. He wanted to be able to move the ankle even if it was painful.

Instead, he woke to his ankle obviously more swollen than the day before, tender to the touch and with a faint bruise. Putting weight on it and walking on it was possible but the pain was intense enough to make Yuzuru feel nauseous. He could even land little hops on it, but the impact made Yuzuru’s vision cut out. Dizzy and breathless from the agony of whatever it was he had done to the ankle.

He could deal with pain. He was familiar with it.

Ghislain watched alongside Yuzuru’s mother while Kikuchi guided Yuzuru through different ways to test the ankle. Their expressions were so similar it would have been comical if it wasn’t for the situation. Both of their eyebrows drawn together and clearly troubled by the way Yuzuru’s face would twist - eyes screwing shut, mouth contorting - everytime he tried to move his right foot. Yuzuru bit his lip so hard it started to bleed, filling his mouth with coppery tang, holding back a grunt when he tried to roll his ankle.  
  


It was impossible. The ankle seized and spasmed, locked up and refused to move. Not just stiff anymore, now it was completely immobile.

Kikuchi shook his head. “You can’t skate like this.”

Yuzuru’s throat tightened. His lips moved, arguing on reflex. “But. If I take painkillers-”

“Painkillers won’t allow the ankle to move,” Kikuchi pointed out. Yuzuru knew he was right. He didn't want to accept it.

“You need to go to the hospital.” Yuzuru looked over at his mom at the sound of her voice. Her face was Yuzuru’s least favourite expression to see on her - worried, tired. “I told you so yesterday.”

Yuzuru looked away from her. He had nothing to say, no reason to disagree. He pressed his lips together, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to hold back the tears building up.  “There’s really nothing I can do?”

“No,” Kikuchi told him sadly. “your mother is right. You need to get it checked properly. I can strap it until you go to the hospital but there’s no way you can skate.”

The tears began to flow no matter how hard Yuzuru tried to hold them back. He looked up at the ceiling, hoping that would stop them from spilling down his cheeks. His lips quivered. He bit down to stop it, taking in deep, shaky breaths, desperate to regain control. He felt an arm slip around him, and he let himself be pulled into his mother’s arms. He closed his eyes, bringing his arms around her and clutching at the back of her sweater.

It wasn’t fair. He didn’t want to accept this. He hadn’t done anything. It was one fall on one jump. He had done stupid things before, skated with a fever before, overtrained when he was sick…

It didn’t matter. It was done. There was no way he could change it. He had to accept the reality of the situation and deal with it.  
  


He sat up and took a deep breath, wiping the tears from beneath his eyes. He sniffed and cast his eyes towards Ghislain. His mom rubbed his back soothingly. Ghislain looked sombre. It was odd to see him like that. Yuzuru usually only saw him grinning and joking.

 

“I’ll withdraw.” The words tasted bitter on Yuzuru’s tongue as if bile had risen to the back of his throat. He looked towards Kikuchi. “Tell Kobayashi to bring the form.”

 

***

 

Yuzuru stared at the television screen in his hotel room, crutches propped up beside his chair within arms reach, ankle securely strapped up and resting on a footrest that slotted nicely beneath the little table where Yuzuru could eat his food.

He had been to the hospital, had an x-ray to make sure he hadn’t actually broken the ankle. He hadn’t - that was at least one thing they could tell the media; no broken bones, no fractures. Just a sprain. Not mild, but not incredibly severe either. Or, at least, so much as the doctor could tell without an MRI. Yuzuru would have to make another appointment for that though. He would rather not. Being told he needed at least two weeks of full rest and a further four to six weeks off the ice was bad enough. He didn’t want the doctor to read some image and extend that.

He would return to Toronto anyway. Go through his recovery there with Tracy and Brian overseeing, using the resources the team had to offer him when it came to working out how they would deal with this.

He also wanted to hide. Yuzuru wanted to be left alone. The mental strain of being injured so close to the Olympics would be bad enough without having the JSF and Japanese media constantly trying to get updates the way the most definitely would be. It was easier to ignore them in Canada. Media couldn’t show up at the club.  
  


Yuzuru watched as Satoko glided to the centre of the ice. This was her comeback after injury. The start of her fight for a place on the Olympic team. The men’s fight at Nationals would be nothing compared to the ladies. No one was guaranteed a spot. Though if anyone should be, Yuzuru thought maybe it should be Satoko.

He felt a surge of pride watching her skate. For so long, Japanese skaters, Asian skaters, had to skate to European music and use European modes of expression to satisfy a sport, an organisation, and a set of unspoken rules in judging that favoured specific qualities in performances. Slowly, they were proving, program by program, that different music and different styles of dance and expression were as valid, as worthy, as good as the Eurocentric styles judges traditionally preferred. It was part of why Yuzuru wanted to bring Seimei back for the Olympics. To win with a program that was entirely, unapologetically Japanese.

In the short program, she showed her own expression of ‘ _wa_ ’. The beauty, strength, and delicacy of Japan. Jumps were still a struggle, but they had never been her strongest point. Her strength lay in her steps, her poise, the precise movements of her arms and graceful extensions through her entire body, making her small stature seem so much greater than it was. He admired the way shy accelerated with the music at the beginning of her step sequences, then changed to softer movements as the music changed tempo. The pretty pink of her dress gave the impression of sakura. Not a single petal, but a storm of them, dancing and twirling in a breeze. Free and beautiful.

Satoko looked satisfied and relieved as she headed towards the kiss and cry. She had managed to complete her first program in competition after almost an entire season off. No falls, no unsightly stumbled of obvious stiffness. Yuzuru could only hope that whenever he would skate again, it would be as successful.

He picked at his food as Satoko waited for her scores. His mom had talked with the supplement company that sponsored him and dealt with his nutrition plans, and she had, in turn, come to tell him the adjustments to suggested to help aid his recovery. Less red meat, if any at all, to avoid aggravating inflammation, but an overall increase in protein coming from fatty fish, tofu, eggs, beans and chicken. Fewer starches, more dark green, red and orange vegetables, nuts and seeds, berries and citrus fruits for snacks. Yuzuru agreed. He’d do just about anything that would potentially help him heal faster.

He stabbed at his eggs angrily. He hated this.

Satoko’s scores came in. She went into fifth place; she would finish in sixth. It seemed harsh. But there was less than a single point between sixth and fourth. There was still a chance to finish higher.

He would stay to watch the competition in his hotel room and then head back to Canada. Kobayashi had offered to get his flight changed, but Yuzuru didn't want the hassle. He didn't want to deal with going to the airport, the media that would be waiting for him there, the cameras in his face and the flurry of questions that would be thrown at him. He’d have to deal with the media at some point, but he couldn't handle that right now. He felt too raw and broken. He wanted to stay in his room. Alone. 

 

His phone flashed at the edge of the table. His mom had put it there in case he needed anything. He wasn’t sure why she bothered when they both knew she’d be coming in to check on him within a few hours anyway.

Shoma. It was the third message he had sent within the past fifteen minutes. Yuzuru could see them marching down his screen every time it lit up.

Yuzuru didn’t have the energy to talk. Not right now. He couldn’t explain what happened all over again. He couldn't try to pretend to be okay so Shoma wouldn't worry. Talking wasn't what he needed or wanted. Yuzuru wished Shoma could be there with him, to just sit beside him in silence. So he could lie down with his head on Shoma's lap and feel his fingers running through his hair. Instead Shoma was on a different continent, and their paths wouldn't cross for months.

He knew Shoma just wanted to be there for him. Let Yuzuru feel his presence in some way. But Yuzuru didn't know how to best respond and was too drained and miserable to figure it out.

Yuzuru turned the phone over and ignored it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys~~~  
> I'm hoping to keep up with a posting schedule so fighting @ me, feel free to bully me into writing so I don't slack lmao
> 
> there is a little bonus you can read [HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14471805) that is just a little bit of Javi and Shoma bonding


	21. Vulnerable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuzuru deals with his injury and reflects in previous experiences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to add a trigger warning to this chapter for discussion of depression and a brief discussion/allusion towards suicidal thoughts. It is very brief and I tried to work it in as gently as possible, but it's something you should be aware of going into this chapter.
> 
> If you would rather completely avoid the allusion to suicide ideation stop reading after 'get to dry land and then find your way home.' and skip to 'He knew that he didn’t have to cope on his own' - through the line above may also be safe.

**Vulnerable**

 

For a moment, everything was silent.

Yuzuru looked at Brian, waiting for him to speak. Brian looked at Yuzuru, trying to decide what to say. Where to start. Outside, a breeze rustled through the few remaining leaves that stubbornly clung to the trees that lined the street.

Brian had come to Yuzuru, rather than making Yuzuru travel to the club for them to talk. Yuzuru had been spending most of his time in his bedroom. So Brian still had to sit and watch as Yuzuru came into the living room to sit down on the chair adjacent to where Brian perched on the sofa. He had tracked Yuzuru from the moment he came through the door, eyebrows drawn down in worry and watery blue eyes desperately sad. Pitying. Or not pitying — he knew Yuzuru hated that — but empathetic. Maybe remorseful. Definitely worried. As if there was anything he could have done to stop Yuzuru ending up the way he was. On crutches, hiding in his bedroom.

Brian seemed to be assessing him. His eyes studied Yuzuru’s face — the way his eyes were downcast and his mouth was a straight line. His hair limp and messy because he didn’t have the energy to comb or wash it since he came back to Toronto. His face was pale, small dark circles that looked as if someone had dipped a finger in dust and drawn them on beneath his eyes. A few pimples at his hairline and low on his cheek — usually a stress thing. Brian knew Yuzuru’s skin had always remained more or less clear save for a few breakouts normally caused by him suddenly treating himself to sugary drinks and greasy food, or becoming incredibly stressed. Yuzuru felt the way Brian looked at him. He knew Brian would be careful trying to figure out what his state was, mentally, before he started to speak. Try to figure out ahead of time what would be the wrong things to say.

Yuzuru wasn’t the boy Brian had last seen the days after competing in Russia. When Brian had left to tend to Javi, Yuzuru had been bright-eyed, optimistic, motivated, pleased at the performances he put out despite not winning the gold. Compared to that Yuzuru — the one he was more used to — the person in front of him was an empty shell. Muted, washed out. Even if he wasn’t always happy, he was always something. He was bright colours and bold brushstrokes. Bounding into practice, smiling, throwing himself into the air, laughing when he fell, sticking his legs up in the air. Or bursting into practice, stormy, whipping around like wildfire. Tumbling through the doors, ready to work. Or panicking, melting into a puddle of tears. His heart was on his sleeve. The job was always to bring him down, get him calm, get him to some state in which he could let out his energy in a controlled way. Skating was the tool he used to refine his emotions, channel them. Create his own kind of art.

Yuzuru had started to craft something special. They had done that together. Spent years of sketching it out, building upon it, drafting and redrafting. Laying down the first colours. He had been ready to add some extra details, add the varnish, present the finished piece in front of the world. He had dumped a bucket of water on it instead.  


“How is your fever?” Brian started.

“It’s gone.”

Brian paused. Yuzuru could practically see him making a mental note of how scratchy and quiet Yuzuru’s voice was as if he hadn’t talked in days. He spoke slowly, carefully. “Are you eating?”

Yuzuru nodded mutely. His throat felt dry. “Changed diet a little. For ankle.”

“Kikuchi forwarded the details from the doctor to me,” Brian told him, voice steady and calm. “I’ve already talked to Maeghan, she’s going to help work out your off-ice rehab.”

Yuzuru nodded stiffly. He still felt numb inside. Like a black pit had opened up inside him. He was lucky. He had the money, the sponsor support, to deal with his injury without worrying too much about the burden it would place on his family. He used to worry about that a lot. When he first came to Toronto, and his mom was still sewing his costumes. Yuzuru was thankful. He had a team of coaches and physiotherapists who would work with doctors and nutritionists and personal trainers, people in Toronto and in Japan all coordinating to make sure they designed a rehabilitation program that would give him the best chance of a smooth recovery. So many skaters weren’t that fortunate. It could be so much worse. He could have fallen on his head, not his ankle. He could be like some of his friends and not have the money to cover the cost of treatment. But there was bitterness too. In how often he has to rely on those resources. That he was in need of them again, a little over a year since his last significant injury. Every time he took two steps forward he was knocked back to negative one.

“What are you thinking?”

“I want to win the Olympics,” Yuzuru said automatically.

Brian blinked and sat up straight. “That’s what you want to work towards?”

“Yes,” Yuzuru said shortly. “It’s all that matters. I have to go there. I have to win.”

“Okay.” Brian nodded. Yuzuru looked up at him. Brian didn’t look worried or pitying anymore. His eyes were set, determined. Focused. Yuzuru always thought Brian was closer to Javier, having more in common with him. But he had a lot in common with Yuzuru too. After all, Brian had been at the top of his field when he had skated, had fought for two Olympic titles and knew the thirst for gold.

“If you wanted to set new world records...that’s not going to happen.”  


They had to be realistic about this. Yuzuru knew that there would be some things he would have to let go of. One of them would be the glory moment he had craved since his win at Sochi failed to meet his expectations. The moment he had wanted since he had followed one clean program with another, one clean competition with another, six world records within two weeks. He wished that for the Olympics. To prove to the world that he did deserve to be Olympic Champion, and to stay Olympic Champion. That wouldn’t happen now.

“World records might be off the table,” Brian said, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His lips curled into a small, reassuring smile. “But a gold medal? We can work up to that.”  


Talking to Brian helped. It felt like things had a course. Yuzuru would rest undisturbed for a few more days, then go for a check-up, and have another meeting to work out a rehab schedule. The focus would be entirely on getting Yuzuru to the Olympics and getting him ready to win. He didn’t know if they’d succeed, but it was nice to have a plan.

“Don’t think too far ahead,” Brian had told him. “Just focus on resting for now. Know that it’s the best thing you can do for yourself.”

“Everything one step at a time.”

Brian smiled and patted Yuzuru’s shoulder. “That’s right. And you know you can talk to me, Tracy, Ghislain...Anyone you need to, at any time.”

Yuzuru had nodded, but he had to look away. He could guess what Brian would say next because Yuzuru knew well enough by now precisely what Brian would want him to know at this point. Sure enough, the words Yuzuru predicted came out of Brian’s mouth.

“You’re not alone in this. We’re all here for you.”

Yuzuru had forced a tight smile at that. It was what he needed to hear, but that wasn’t why Brian said it. He said it because he wanted Yuzuru to believe it.

It was as if Yuzuru was sixteen again and Brian was still trying to coax him out of the mindset that he had to be brave and strong and cope on his own. Sometimes Brian looked at him the way Nanami did, the last year Yuzuru trained with her; the worry in her eyes, the fixed smile, the way she’d gently reach out and ask him if he was okay, knowing that he wasn’t. Waiting for him to say it.

Sometimes Yuzuru felt like he’d been knocked back into his sixteen-year-old state.

 

***

 

‘Ankle sprain, moderate, grade 2. Multiple lateral ligament involvement.  
Complete rest: two weeks minimum. Off-ice treatment: 4-6 weeks. Monitor for complications. On-ice rehab program TBD.’  


Yuzuru scanned through the packet Brian had dropped off. As promised, some details of his rehabilitation schedule — when he’d go in for physiotherapy, suggestions for at-home treatments, a speculative timeline for when they’d get him starting rehab on the ice.   
One step at a time. Yuzuru stared at the paper. He had to take it one step at a time.  


Brian talked with him, mentioning a few things Maeghan wanted to be clear on regarding what Yuzuru should and should not be doing at home. Yuzuru listened, nodding. He would probably hear the same thing directly from her when he went in for physio.  It didn’t matter. He still had over a week left of crutches doing nothing.

He scanned over the note at the top of the page again. Complications. Of course. Complications. Because this wasn’t his first sprain and the more the ligaments got damaged, the weaker they got, the more susceptible to future damage.  
He put the papers aside.

 

***

 

There were good days and bad days while Yuzuru had to rest. Good days were when Yuzuru felt normal. He got up, he had breakfast, and he had it in him to think optimistically about the situation. He could count the days left until he started the rehabilitation program with one hand, he could study in the meantime and keep his mind active. He could relax and play video games or read to fill the time and not feel guilty or lazy. He could help out his mom around the house more and spend time with her. On good days, things seemed okay. The situation was still undesirable, but he was doing the best he could, and he had support to deal with it. It would work out.

There were bad days too. When doubts crept in, and Yuzuru felt tired, defeated, sad.

Most days were moderate. Sometimes he would wake up and gradually feel more frustrated and restless as the day wore on. Or his mood would be changeable as the weather; sunny in the morning, stormy in the afternoon and showers of sadness in the evening before a calm and cloudless night.

There was something worse than a bad day, but Yuzuru wasn’t sure what to call it. All he knew was he woke up feeling wrong and unable to shake off the heavy, constricting weight that seemed to gather all around him.

Yuzuru wasn’t concerned by the low days. Feeling sad, worried, frustrated...these were natural feelings in these circumstances. Being stressed and anxious and downtrodden wasn’t anything to run and hide from. He could face those things and deal with them. They were manageable.

He was more afraid of the emptiness. The cold nothingness of a mind and body shutting down and giving up.   


Today was a dark day. A worse day. He tried to read, or play a game, or do anything that usually made him feel okay but he had woken up without the tools to engage with anything. He found himself sitting, staring at the wall.  


Yuzuru remembered sitting like this before. He didn’t want to think about it, recall that feeling that had risen up and totally overtaken him the weeks after Worlds. He had been in this same position — off the ice, full rest, waiting to see what would happen. He hadn’t known that the foot would heal, that he would be able to jump again without pain. The dread that had budded when the pain started and grew when the injury made itself known had swelled into a completely different beast.

He had been terrified. He was scared and alone, and his world seemed to be disappearing beneath his feet. He was losing the thing he loved the most in his life because he had stubbornly chosen to compete.

When the spotlight went out, he was struck with an intense wave of despondency. It was a sensation he had never felt before, and would likely never feel again.

Every morning he woke up feeling bleaker than the day before. Every day he seemed to sink lower and lower into a pit of perpetual blackness. Colour seemed to drain out of the world around him. Everything became washed with grey and dull. Every day it got harder to do even small things; eat, drink, get up, shower… He remembered seeing comments from strangers about his failures. Gossip about his condition. People hoping his career was ending.   


Being sad is like stepping in a puddle and getting your shoes so wet it seeps into your socks. It’s unpleasant and uncomfortable, but you can still walk. You can get home and take off your shoes, dry your feet and put on new socks. It might take a while, but it’s not a long-term problem. It’s manageable.

But this. This was like stepping into a puddle, only to find it’s actually a sinkhole that leads to the depths of an ocean that sucks you in. Before you know it you’re underwater and have the pressure of ten thousand feet above you. You can’t see, and you’re sinking. But somehow you’re supposed to not drown, swim to the surface, get to dry land and then find your way home.

Yuzuru had been swept away. By the time he realised it, he had lost the will the swim to the surface. He wanted to give up and drown.

He went to sleep each night wishing he wouldn’t wake up.

Yuzuru remembered sitting down, staring at the wall. He remembered how it felt; the crushing weight of depression, the choking darkness of his feeling. A numb, ice-cold feeling right in the core of him. He was underwater so deep that light couldn’t reach him. He stared at the wall and thought about how he wanted this feeling to end, how he couldn’t carry on. He had nothing else to offer the world, nothing left to give. What he had given wasn’t enough.

Now Yuzuru was already starting to feel like he was treading water and about to sink. Maybe that was the benefit of having hit the bottom the way he had. It couldn’t creep up on him the same way it had last time.

He knew that he didn’t have to cope on his own. Last time, Tracy worked with him closely to get him back to health, not only his body but his head and heart too. Yuzuru had meetings with Brian about things they could both change to make both of them happier. It had taken time, but the select few people Yuzuru confided in pulled him out of the worst of it so he could find his way back to a state where he could cope. It was valuable to know that he could get through it. Eventually, he’d get back on dry land.

He didn’t want to go under again.

Yuzuru decided to take some initiative.

Everyone had weaknesses, Yuzuru knew his well. He could defend against them. Last time, he had found some comfort in studying. He studied anatomy, learned about the muscles and ligaments; how they function, how to feed them and build them and protect them from damage. He had managed to go a whole season without an injury as a result. Accidents would always happen; those were out of his control and came with the sport, and the risks of pushing it forward the way they were. But if Yuzuru could come out of his last injury, and the mess that he was mentally at the time, armed with knowledge that would help him be better, he could do the same now.

Perhaps it was pathetic. But if reading and studying and picking up ideas of how he could actively improve his situation had helped him cope last time, then it was worth trying again.

Yuzuru opened up his emails and started typing out to one of his university professors. He had to do some psychology credits for his degree anyway, so requesting suggestions for reading materials wasn’t all that unusual. Yuzuru was careful with how he phrased his request; asking for texts that would be ‘ _relevent to my current situation_ ’ with a particular interest in anything regarding _‘injury recovery and mental conditioning_ ’. Yuzuru sent to email and let out a steady breath. Maybe it wouldn’t be useful, but he could take some pride in that he tried.

 

***

 

Yuzuru had been trying to read. He didn’t have the energy to commit any brainpower to it and had been distracted by the streaks of red across the sky and the rolling dark clouds outside his window. His room was dark now — just the light from his laptop and one old lamp stopping the room from being dark and leaving Yuzuru to rely on the feeble amount of light that came through the window.

Raindrops splattered against the window. It was pretty how the street lights caught at the edges of the droplets, illuminating them in a slightly orange glow. When cars passed on the street, the white and red lights were reflected in the droplets that raced down the windowpane, contrasting with the darkness of late evening. Yuzuru rested his head against the glass and let his eyes unfocus, listening to the pitter-patter of the rain outside.

He should move. He should sleep. Yuzuru knew this. But he it was nice to stop thinking for a while and listen to the steady drumming of rain against the glass and the street below. He sat on the windowsill as dusk settled in the sky, watched the moody clouds roll across the sky, and the rain began to fall. Something was soothing about it. Comforting.

There was a flicker from Yuzuru’s laptop screen and a ping for some notification snapping him out of his trance. He looked over at his desk and slipped off the windowsill. Shoma had come online at some point, sending him a short message that read ‘ _Are you there?_ ’

Yuzuru’s stomach twinged with guilt. A week. He hadn’t talked to Shoma in almost a week. Though it wasn't all bad. Their schedule lined up so that at least a few days where their needs had overlapped — Yuzuru not wanting to talk to anyone at all and Shoma requiring space to keep his head clear to compete.

Still, Yuzuru had been ignoring Shoma’s attempts to check in on him. That wasn’t okay. Not when Yuzuru had been worried after a few days of not hearing from Shoma while he was sick.

Yuzuru switched on the lamp at his desk and ran a hand through his hair. He probably looked awful. He had been trying to at least go through the motions — get up, eat, do some studying. But he found himself staring into space, or getting distracted and straying somehow. He watched the footage of his injury, desperately trying to determine the exact moment everything went wrong.  
Yuzuru doubted Shoma would expect him to look his best, or would even care. He would want to see him, speak to him, know he’s okay.

He hit the icon to open a video call and waited. He didn’t have to wait long because Shoma answered immediately. Like he had been sitting, waiting for Yuzuru to reply. As always, there was a lag between Shoma answering the call and turning his camera on. Yuzuru at least had it in him to be amused by that.  


“Hi,” Shoma said once his face appeared on the screen. He gave an uneasy kind of smile that didn’t reach his eyes or smooth out the concerned tension in his expression.

“Hi.” It occurred to Yuzuru that he wasn’t sure where Shoma was in the world. A slow curl of guilt unfurled at the pit of Yuzuru’s stomach. He could hear Itsuki’s bratty voice at the back of his mind telling him, again, that he’s no good at relationships. “Did you get back to Japan okay?”

“I go back tomorrow.” Shoma paused for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip. Yuzuru felt an unhappy twinge — it had been a while since Yuzuru had seen Shoma’s nervous habits while they talked to each other. Things like that came out more when Shoma was in a group of less familiar people or in front of media. It hurt to know that Shoma was uncomfortable talking to him — even if Yuzuru knew it would dissipate. Yuzuru could guess that Shoma was only awkward because he wasn’t sure what to say. He’d want to make things better. And he couldn’t. Not with words.

“I wanted to talk to you earlier, but you weren’t replying, and you don’t want to talk to me at competitions so… I was worried about you.”

“I’m sorry. I should’ve...I didn’t want to talk to anyone.”

Shoma shook his head. “You don’t have to be sorry.”

Yuzuru ached. He knew Shoma wasn’t telling him this to make him feel bad — like Yuzuru hadn’t been when the situation had been reversed. Shoma just wanted Yuzuru to know he cared, that he thought about him. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Not really,” Yuzuru said. His mouth pulled into a thin line; a grimace that was supposed to be a weak smile. “I have at least another week on crutches and a checkup in a few days.” He sighed. He hated checkups, doctors. All the more opportunities to tell him that the situation was worse than they had first thought and that recovery was going to take even longer. “I’m hoping I can make it to Nationals but…”

But it wouldn’t happen. Nationals was a stretch even if his ankle miraculously started healing in record speed.

Maybe Shoma didn’t get that, because his eyes brightened. “It’s not as bad as last time?”  


Last time. The last time Yuzuru stood on the precipice with an injury and an unknown amount of time needed to recover. Yuzuru didn’t usually think about the beginning of that recovery. He tended to reflect on the end — the part where things were getting better, and he felt like he learned more from the experience. Perhaps the beginning was a lesson too. Though he wasn’t sure what that was supposed to have taught him. Yuzuru had to stop, mentally assess himself for a moment. Was it as bad as last time? The seriousness of the injury was probably about the same. The timing was...just as bad, maybe worse. His mental state? It was difficult to tell.

Yuzuru shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

A vaguely pained look crossed Shoma’s eyes. His arm jerked awkwardly, fingers twitching. Like he wanted to reach out and touch Yuzuru. Though that could have been a projection, because it was Yuzuru who craved affection — to give it because Shoma looked troubled, to take it because Yuzuru was sad and hurt and scared. Shoma chewed his lip, his expression achingly soft, leaning forward to at least give the illusion of being closer to Yuzuru.

“You’ll be okay.”

Yuzuru shrugged, looking away from the screen. He couldn’t be sure if Shoma was trying to be reassuring, or if it was an empty platitude because Shoma didn’t know what else to say. It didn’t matter, the intention was still the same either way but so was the effect. Yuzuru didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

Shoma let him change the subject, talking about the competition in France, laughing at the plastic stars they got instead of medals (‘ _it takes up so much room! But it’ll be a pretty nice bookend_ ’). Then to video games, Shoma’s little achievement in rising to the next rank.

“Sho, how much do you play?” Yuzuru had asked, stunned at the level Shoma was at. Which was three ranks below a pro-gamer. Which was ridiculous.

Shoma sniffed. “A couple of hours a day.” The ‘don’t judge me’ was unspoken but very much there.

“Don’t you have assignments?” Yuzuru asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m taking this semester off, remember?”

Shoma’s cheeky grin bled through Yuzuru’s miserable haze. He was really going to spend his semester off cramming on as much gaming as he could before the new year, Yuzuru thought. Like a kid with a week off school. It was endearing how silly Shoma could be at times. And he’d relaxed considerably since the call had begun and their conversation had shifted, which in turn made Yuzuru feel moderately less shitty.  
Yuzuru rolled his eyes. Somewhere within himself, he found the will to smile. Shoma drew it out of him, if only for a moment.

Shoma had been there for him last time, in a way, without really knowing what he was doing. A slow trickle into Yuzuru’s consciousness. Little messages that grew into conversations when Yuzuru had avoided talking to the people around him for weeks. A doorway into another reality where everything was fine and normal - Shoma talking about ice shows and gaming and funny things his brother said. Yuzuru didn’t tell him how hard it was or how much he was struggling, but Shoma didn’t press him on it. They talked, like friends. Shoma gave him a comfortable space to hide in on his phone where he could forget for a moment that everything was wrong.

 

***

 

Shoma returning to Japan meant Javier was due to come back to Toronto.

Yuzuru hadn’t really done much in the days following Brian coming to see him and calling Shoma. The mundanity of daily life rubbed him raw when he couldn’t train, leaving him feeling lost when stretches of empty time he was unable to productively fill.

He watched videos of his performances. It was a method Brian taught them, which he had learned from a sports psychologist he used back when he was competing. Visualisation. Keeping the image of how elements should be performed solidly in his mind so it would be easier to recreate when he was out on the ice. If he focused too much of the flaws, then that would be all he envisioned, and he’d be bound to follow them over and over.

That had been part of the problem last year. Yuzuru had watched back the errors that had cost him the world title so many times that a mental block had formed around certain passes, a fear of failure that became a self-fulfilling prophecy. And the spectre of himself at his best hovered over him, creating a pressure that crippled him. He felt somewhat released from that now he knew it wasn’t a one-off fluke. He could produce those kinds of skates again. If he had the image for them.

The method had clicked with him over the summer, but now it felt like doing nothing. watching, over and over, in detail, videos of his best skating. He couldn’t get up and follow the motions with his body off the ice, looking in the mirror to see his shoulder drawback and his body snap into the position he needed. He couldn’t go outside to walk and burn off his unspent energy either, because he was still supposed to be fully resting his ankle. The least he could do was watch himself and try to keep the image of his potential fresh in his mind so when the time came it would be easy to reach for it and bring it forward.

Yuzuru was jerked to attention by a knock on his bedroom door. The rhythm told him it was Javier before he even turned in his seat to face him. Javier leaned against the doorframe, head peering around into the room almost shyly, silently asking permission to come in. Yuzuru nodded, inclining his head towards the bed to hint that Javier could sit there.

“I messaged you, but you didn’t reply,” Javi said as he crossed the room. He didn’t close the door behind him, but Yuzuru didn’t mind either way.

“Sorry.”

Javier shook his head and sat, perched on the edge of the bed. “I wasn’t sure if this was okay or not? I know we said we’d see each other at the rink, but you’re not going to be there for a while—”

“It’s okay.” Yuzuru shifted in his seat, not liking that he was slightly above Javier, or the distance. His bedroom wasn’t big, but his bed was pushed against the opposite wall to his desk, so it felt odd to sit across from each other like this.“If it is for you?”

“Yeah,”  Javier said gently. It had been him, after all, who hadn’t wanted to meet outside of training. “I don’t feel the way I did before.”

“Me either.”

Yuzuru stood, moving himself to sit next to Javier, wiggling back, so his back was against the wall. He tugged Javier’s arm to do the same. Javier settled beside him, letting out a long breath and rolling his head against the wall to look at Yuzuru. They were close, sat shoulder-to-shoulder, but it didn’t feel the way it used to.

“I wanted to see how you are holding up. Brian mentioned that you didn’t look too great when he saw you.” Javier’s eyes flickered down, lashes catching the light, pretty in a way that clashed with the rugged stubble at his jaw. “I remember how bad things got last time.”  
Yuzuru’s breath caught painfully in his chest. The memory of something cold and dark rising up, choking him from within. Yuzuru stared at Javier in wide-eyed panic.  “You stopped talking to everyone for a while. I was worried about you,”  Javier explained, maybe thinking that Yuzuru wasn’t sure what he was talking about.   


Yuzuru was still stunned when Javier put his left arm around him and pulled him closer. He closed his eyes, finding some sense of calm in the warmth Javier’s body against his own. The arm around him was like an anchor, but there was something sharp and painful about the affection Javier gave out so easily. A reminder of how much Yuzuru wanted to be held and touched — not just by Javier, but by anyone. Even when his mother embraced him, or Brian gave him a hug after skating, or when a friend opened their arms to him in a greeting Yuzuru always felt a tug in his chest. His fingers would curl in their clothes, eyes squeezing shut, never wanting to let go.  
It had been impossible to bear when their relationship had been fraught with confusion. A hug could be as hurtful as a slap in the face. He was glad that wasn’t the case anymore — proximity didn’t make him anxious anymore, affection didn’t come with a knife blade twisting in his heart or sickening guilt of wanting something he shouldn’t.

Of course, Javier was talking about the self-imposed isolation. He didn’t know the full extent of how bad things were in the first few weeks. He hadn’t been there for that. He’d been in Spain, he had spent time with Miki and done ice shows. That was fine. Yuzuru hadn’t been his responsibility then, like he wasn’t now. Yuzuru had told him as much. All Javier knew was that Yuzuru had stopped talking to him, and about everyone else for a while.

Yuzuru shifted, inclining his body into Javier’s, wiggling his butt down, so he became shorter. The arm around his shoulder tightened to give an affectionate squeeze. Yuzuru lifted his left hand to clasp at the space between Javier’s neck and right shoulder. It’s an odd, loose kind of half-hug, with Yuzuru’s right arm snaking around the back and his face half-pressed into Javier’s neck. But it’s nice. He takes a moment to soak in the comfort being this close to someone gives him. It’s not romantic, but not necessarily friendly either. But also both at the same time. Yuzuru didn't particularly care about what was normal for others; for them, this was good for them. Yuzuru felt calm and comfortable sat with Javier like this. That’s all that mattered.

Yuzuru sighed into Javier’s neck. “I’m doing okay.”

“Have you talked to Shoma?”

Yuzuru’s mouth twitched. “Yeah.”

“Good,” Javier said flatly.“ “I heard you stopped replying to him.”

Yuzuru lifted his head and drew himself back, hand sliding away from Javier’s shoulder, bringing himself upright so Javier could at least see the full effect of his frown. “He told you?”

“I asked him,” Javier clarified, looking adorably puzzled for a moment as if he didn’t understand why Yuzuru might be not pleased with the idea of Shoma complaining about their lapse in communication. “I think you forget how many people care about you. It’s scary when you shut us out.”

Yuzuru sighed and settled back down against Javier’s side. He didn’t turn back to curl against Javier’s side again but accepted the arm returning around him.  
“He was competing,” Yuzuru said softly, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes. “I didn’t want to distract him.”

“Maybe he wants you to distract him.” That statement makes Yuzuru open his eyes. Javier’s tone is chastising, but well-meaning. It feels condescending. Maybe they talked, but Javi was acting as if he knew Shoma, knew better than Yuzuru. Javier carried on, blissfully unaware of the daggers Yuzuru was glaring at him.  “Maybe it bothers him more when you don’t talk to him. He needs you, too.”

“To say what?” Yuzuru blew out, irritated. “My ankle is fucked, and I do nothing all day?”

Javier shot him a withering look. Yuzuru dropped it. He knew that he should’ve talked to Shoma sooner, but it was annoying to hear it from Javier of all people.

“You wanted to skate on painkillers, right?” Javier asked, changing the subject.

Yuzuru huffed. “You got all the gossip, huh?”

“No,” Javier drawled. “That’s just the sort of thing you do.”

“I did,” Yuzuru admitted. “But no one forced me to withdraw. I knew I had to.”

It wasn’t as if there had been any other option at that point. His ankle had completely seized up. But Javier didn’t need to know that. Yuzuru sniffed, looking down at how his legs were stretched out in front of his across the width of his bed. The swelling in his right ankle had gone down, but it was still tender.

Javier reached out and patted Yuzuru’s thigh. “I’m glad you’re finally taking care of yourself."

Yuzuru snorted. “Trying to.” He stared at his right ankle which a petulant kind of malice. “Failing.”

“Not failing,” Javier insisted, rubbing Yuzuru’s thigh, making it jiggle, either in a comforting gesture or for emphasis. “Things happen.”

“Mistakes are lessons,” Yuzuru said, petulantly mocking Brian. It was annoying whenever Brian said something like that because Yuzuru agreed and knew every time something went horribly wrong it was an opportunity to become stronger, but sometimes it would be great if life didn’t find a way to knock him on his ass.

Javier sniggered. “Did you learn anything?”

“Don’t skate with a fever.”

Javier snorted, Yuzuru turned to him with a pout. That was a lesson he shouldn’t have to learn at this point, but apparently, these things needed repeating. Yuzuru let out a sigh, leaning his head against Javier again. He nudged Javier’s foot with his own.

“I’m sorry you won’t go to final.”

“It’s fine.” Javier was nonchalant. His hand travelled up from Yuzuru’s shoulder to gently stroke through his hair. “I’m sorry you won’t either. But, whatever right? We’ve got bigger fish to cook.”

Yuzuru lookup up sharply, baffled. “What?”

They both spluttered with laughter. Sometimes Yuzuru wondered if Javier truly only half-remembered weird English sayings or if he mangled them on purpose to make Yuzuru laugh. Still, Yuzuru liked it every time.  “You had a good time in Europe?”

Javier nodded fingers still smoothing over the hair tucked behind Yuzuru’s ear. “Yeah. Getting to spend some time in Madrid was great. I had time to start looking for an apartment.”

“Oh.” Yuzuru’s stomach dropped. It was a strange feeling, to be reminded that Javier was moving on with his life in so many ways. “Will you live with girlfriend?”

“Maybe?” replied, raise going high in his uncertainty. “We’ve not really worked it out yet. I don’t know if it’s going to be a permanent thing or when I’ll move.”

Yuzuru took a breath, finger unconsciously curling into Javier’s t-shirt. “Not yet.”

He wouldn’t be leaving, not for a while, not until the end of the season at ‘east. He would still be by Yuzuru’s side a little while longer. Yuzuru wasn’t losing him.

“No. Not yet.”

 

***

 

“So, how was your check-up?” Maeghan had asked with a hopeful smile. Yuzuru liked her, even if he only ever saw her when he had some kind of injury. That was why he was seeing her now. Yuzuru knew he was a bit of a pain to deal with when he got injured because of the number of people that ended up being involved in his treatment. There were doctors in Canada, doctors in Japan, his personal trainer, physiotherapist and massage therapist he saw in the club. Kikuchi who was Yuzuru’s primary trainer from his clinic in Japan even while Yuzuru was in Toronto, Brian and Tracy who would run his rehabilitation when he was able to get back on the ice and his mother. Poor Maeghan basically had to coordinate with all of them to keep the process running as smoothly as possible.

Going to the doctor was something Yuzuru had been dreading, mostly because he already knew nothing good would be said. His right ankle had been rested the way it was supposed to be, but some swelling lingered still, the pain remained, and the stiffness had not eased. Yuzuru relayed flatly when the doctor had told him that morning. Bruising of the bone, the damage to the ligaments worse than initially thought, despite nothing being completely severed. A few more days of rest would be necessary, going back to some icing and elevation before starting to work on regaining motion. Maeghan hummed while Yuzuru spoke, her smile fading as she made notes, tucking her mousey brown hair behind her ears.

Yuzuru was worried. He had vowed to himself that he would do whatever it took to get himself healed in time for February. He would be good and listen to all the doctors’ orders. But two weeks was already a long time for Yuzuru to be idle. His muscles had already started to weaken and shrink, and without training on the ice and performing jumps they would continue to do so, losing the purpose he had shaped them for, no matter what he did. But he knew he could do some conditioning so there would at least be some muscle there when he did get back on the ice. He didn't have the luxury of time, he couldn’t allow himself to lapse.

Yuzuru headed straight to his room when he got home, brushing off his mom reminding him to grab some ice for his ankle by telling her he wanted to check his email first. He did, still nothing. Yuzuru huffed, his ankle twinged when he stretched out his leg. He opened up some tabs, thinking he should study or something while he iced his ankle when Shoma called.

Yuzuru didn’t hesitate in accepting the call, but he maybe should have.

“Hey! Hold on a sec—”

Yuzuru had to minimise his other windows, so he wasn’t tempted to look elsewhere while Shoma talked to him, he had to pull a post-it note off the lens of his webcam and pull out the earphones he had plugged in.

“There, better.” Yuzuru smiled, filling his screen with Shoma’s face. “Hi!”

Shoma waved cutely, blinking slow and sleepy. “Hi—”

Another false start, this time an interruption. Yuzuru turned at the knock on his door to see his mother taking a step into the room. “Yuzuru, your ankle.”

“Yes, Mom, I know.”

“Come and get the ice then.”

Yuzuru huffed. “Mom, I’m talking to Shoma.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, I’ll bring it.”

Yuzuru thanked her sweetly, glancing to the side to see Shoma rubbing at his eyes. “Sorry about that.”

“Huh?” Shoma looked up. “No, it’s fine. How’s your ankle doing?”

Yuzuru had hoped for a reprieve from having to talk or think about or otherwise deal with his injury. But that wasn’t going to happen.

“I’m…” Yuzuru started. “I’m doing what my doctors are telling me to do.”

He shrugged. It wasn’t a lie. But he felt like Shoma didn’t need to know that his doctors were telling him to extend his rest period from 10 days to 14, or that Maeghan had advised against starting any exercise until his physio program had begun, with the assurance she would relay his concerns to his trainer.

Shoma had smiled stiffly. “That’s good.”

“Yeah,” Yuzuru said absently, glancing at the door to see if his mom was coming back. “I guess.”

Yuzuru didn’t want this. He didn’t want to talk to Shoma about this right now. He just wanted his mind taken off everything.

He sat up straighter when his mom came back, pulling the footstool from the side of his desk so he could prop his foot up. His mom stood beside the desk and handed him the ice pack. “No more than fifteen minutes, remember what the doctor said.” Yuzuru took the pack off her, grumbling about how he knows how long to ice his ankles for. His mom turned to his laptop screen with the sweet smile she used for other people’s children. “Hello, Shoma.”

His head jerked, puppy eyes blinking slowly. Yuzuru sniggered.

“Hello, Mrs Hanyu.”

“It’s quite late there, isn’t it?” She asked sweetly. “Don’t talk for too long, you need to sleep.”

“Yes, Mrs Hanyu.” Shoma nodded stiffly for emphasis.

Yuzuru bit his lip to stop himself laughing. “Mom, go away.”

She playfully clipped his head, and made moves to leave, but not before calling out to wish Shoma good luck at the Grand Prix Final. Shoma’s face froze into a polite half-smile.

Yuzuru watched her close the door, and turned back to the screen. “Sorry. She’s gone now.”

“It’s fine. I should’ve messaged you first.”

“No,” Yuzuru shook his head. “You don’t have to message me every time you want to talk. It’s not like I’m busy right now.”

Shoma shrugged, “It seems like you could have done with a warning.”

Yuzuru re-arranged himself in his seat. He’s been sitting down so much lately it was increasingly hard to stay comfortable for any length of time. But if it meant he was going to get to see Shoma, talk to him, for the next hour or so, then it was worth it.

Yuzuru watched as Shoma suppressed a yawn, eyes and nose scrunching up adorably. As cute and amusing as Yuzuru found Shoma’s sleepy disposition, his mom did have a point in saying it was a bit late to be starting conversations.

“Why are you calling so late, anyway?” Yuzuru asked, still trying to find a comfortable position in his desk chair.

“Just wanted to see you,” Shoma answered plainly. “Did you go to the doctor today?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“My ankle is still sprained,” Yuzuru said it hoping to sound casual, joking, while also wanting to cut this area of discussion off. Shoma didn't seem to find it funny from the way he pursed his lips in mild irritation.

Yuzuru could tell that Shoma was hoping for more. Perhaps it was obvious that Yuzuru wasn't doing well; wasn’t emotionally handling this well and was facing more hurdles that he had wanted in a situation already so much less than ideal. It was likely that his reluctance to talk about it said everything — if recovery was going well, if things were going smoothly and everything was on track, Yuzuru would be telling Shoma that. Instead, he was ducking out of conversations before they even started, redirecting to something else, making small talk about anything he thought he could distract Shoma with for any length of time.

Yuzuru didn't want to think about it. He knew that Shoma wouldn't mind if Yuzuru were to open up and complain, because if the situation were reversed Yuzuru would want to be there for Shoma. He would want to hear what Shoma had to say. It wasn’t that Yuzuru thought Shoma wouldn’t be able to cope with an honest telling of what was going on or that Shoma would be bored to hear the latest update on his lack of progress. Yuzuru didn’t want to dwell on it. Withdrawing and withholding wasn’t a great thing to do in a relationship, but Yuzuru was already sick of thinking and talking about this all the time. Shoma might not get bored of hearing about another day of doing nothing but Yuzuru sure as hell was bored of it.

Shoma let Yuzuru change the subject — whining about how his professor hadn’t responded to his email yet, without saying what he was asking for. Then to other, even more innocuous topics. The small talk they moved onto was stilted and awkward. Shoma looked uncomfortable as they talked like he was forcing himself to interact. His eyes kept drifting like he was looking at something else on his screen or something next to it. He hid yawns behind his hands. Yuzuru found himself struggling to fill up the empty spaces in the conversation. It felt like they had gone back in time, back to when Shoma was barely older than sixteen and painfully shy around Yuzuru. When they were unfamiliar with each other and Shoma was little more than one of the juniors Yuzuru knew but not quite a friend yet.

Yuzuru leant forward to take the ice off his ankle and pushed the stool away, the pack left on it to deal with later. When he looked up, Shoma was rubbing his eyes again. Yuzuru knew it was too much to expect them to click every time they spoke, off days happened and Yuzuru was being awkward. Yuzuru wasn't getting what he wanted from this conversation, but he got the feeling Shoma wasn’t either.

“Are you okay?” Yuzuru asked it was hard to know if Shoma was sleepy or if there was something else.

“I’m fine.”

Everything about Shoma said the opposite; the sigh in his voice, the dark shadows beneath his eyes, the tension in his shoulders. It made Yuzuru ache. But it was late in Japan — Shoma’s room was dark and quiet; he had his earphones in and was just about speaking loud enough for his mic to catch and for Yuzuru to hear without disturbing his brother. Yuzuru watched as Shoma rubbed at his eyes and fought back a yawn. He couldn’t help but to feel guilty — that he should be the one staying up late to call Shoma at a time more convenient for him. Yuzuru did do that. But so many times Shoma messaged him late at night in Japan, wasn’t up until late in the morning and was busy through the day.

“You look really tired,” Yuzuru said with great sympathy. “We can talk some other time—”

“No,” Shoma said quickly, shaking his head. “Please. I need the distraction. Just. Tell me about your day or something.”

That sent a spark running through Yuzuru, jolting his focus forwards. That it wasn’t Yuzuru’s unwillingness to lament his injury causing the lull in their conversation, but something wrong with Shoma too. He should’ve noticed sooner. Shoma had been uneasy from the moment the call started; distractedly looking away from the camera, responding slowly, small repetitive gestures while he listened. Not only tiredness.

“Sho…” Yuzuru frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t,” Shoma said like a plea. His eyes closed. If anything he looked more tired and tense than he did before. “I can’t...Not to you right now.”

“Can’t what?” Yuzuru frowned. Complain? It wasn’t hard to find a possible reason for Shoma to want to vent. “Are you nervous about the final?”

Shoma nodded hesitantly. “It feels so wrong to whine at you about competition stuff…”

Yuzu shook his head with a small sound of dissent in the back of his throat. “It’s not. You can talk to me.” He cocked his head to the side with a small, self-deprecating smile. “I know all about getting nervous before competitions.”

It was almost amusing how their conversation was so stiff because both of them were turning to each other as a distraction for a troubled mind. Shoma didn’t get anxious before competitions often. Not obviously so, anyway. It was something Yuzuru always envied about him — he managed his mind so well compared to Yuzuru. Brian always told Yuzuru to trust his training; Shoma was the manifestation of that mantra. He trained hard and went into competitions knowing that.  So was free to focus on doing the best he could with minimal nerves. Not this time.

 

“It’s just… The final being in Nagoya.” Shoma sighed, running a hand through his hair, pushing it back off his forehead for a moment. In the dim light, the line of his jaw and the height of his cheekbones seemed exaggerated, his face carved out of shadows.  
“I was excited for it when I thought you were going to be here? I was going to aim to do my best and podium with you, and it would have been great to have that moment at home. But you’re not going, and a bunch of other people won’t go either. So it’s being made out to be a certainty that either I’ll win or Nathan will.”   
“I can’t think about it as just…trying to skate better than I did in France. Because I have something to lose. People think I might win because it’s my hometown. So if Nathan wins, it’ll be because he’s better, but if I win, it’s because I got special treatment. But if I lose, I’ll be letting down so many people.”  
“And it feels like it is mine to lose. Because if you’re not there, then I should at least try to keep the title in Japan, right? Because it should be yours—”

It was like a dam broke because everything came spilling out without stopping. Shoma talked faster, more agitated, then Yuzuru had ever seen from him. Shoma took a shuddering breath and raised his eyes to look at Yuzuru. He looked so sad and lost.

“You have this pressure all the time. I feel so stupid whining at you-”

Yuzuru didn’t know what to say that would be any use to Shoma. Because Yuzuru was used to the media spotlight, the tension they would create around competitions. He embraced it. He worked hard to maintain his privacy and liked to have space to duck away from the gaze of cameras, but he invited them to see him train in the offseason. He positioned himself in that spotlight from time to time. He was willing to play the media game to use that tension to his advantage when possible. He would do that through his recovery — pick and choose what information to release and when to have some control. Shoma couldn’t do that, he wasn’t used to that kind of game or all that interested in playing it. He hid from that spotlight, avoided it as much as possible. When it came to this kind of thing, Yuzuru and Shoma were coming from two very different places. Yuzuru couldn’t help with this kind of problem. It was something you got used to over time. Shoma had little more than a week until the final. That wasn’t enough time to grow immune to that kind of pressure.

“Oh, Sho,” Yuzuru said gently. Even if he couldn’t help, he could still sympathise and at least try to assure Shoma. “You’re not stupid.”  
Shoma looked down, teeth worrying his lower lip. Yuzuru wished so badly that he could reach out and touch him. He wanted nothing more than that put his hand over Shoma’s, run his thumb over Shoma’s knuckles, lean in close and feel Shoma’s hair against his cheek. Shoma eyes were turned up somewhere above his laptop screen. “Is that why you’re up so late? Too much in your head?”

“Yeah. I can’t sleep when I’m stressed.” Shoma’s skittered to the side, arms closing around himself. “And it’s like every day I see something that makes it worse.”

“Like what?” Yuzuru asked, encouraging Shoma to continue talking, opening up, letting out all the little things that had been chipping away at him. Letting it out was a better option than storing it up.

Shoma blew out a breath, face twitching as if the wincing at the very thought. “It’s stupid. I shouldn’t even read this stuff. Just...nasty comments about me.”

Yuzuru moved in his seat, stretching out his right leg to ease the restless that was building. He knew about this — the comments being made in the media, but elsewhere too. Little rumours, inaccurate reports leading to misunderstandings, assumptions opening up to baseless criticism. Some critical comments could be constructive, something that could be absorbed into ideas for improvement. But so often they weren't. They were little pin-pricks that came with such ferocious regularity they stopped being minor annoyances and became weapons that tore into them. Yuzuru had hoped Shoma hadn’t seen it, hadn’t looked, but they could be difficult to avoid.

It was probable that Yuzuru wouldn’t find the right things to say that would make Shoma feel better, maybe anything he did say would be little more than a temporary fix for a deeper problem. But he could listen. Not every problem required a solution. Yuzuru could tell Shoma to pay no attention, to not read the comments people made about him. But Shoma knew that was an option, telling him the obvious wasn’t helpful. It could be better to just encourage Shoma to talk — let him know he could be there to listen, show he understood and, hopefully, help Shoma feel less alone.

“People say I get special treatment because I’m an entitled rich kid,” Shoma started, sounding flat and worn out. “That my parents are using money for JSF to favour me and I’m a cheat because my jumps are bad, but judges don’t pull my marks down.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Yuzuru interjected quietly. Shoma didn’t have the greatest jumps out there, but he did what he could, and he was trying to improve. That counted for something. What the judges did, or didn’t do, had nothing to do with Shoma.

“I _do_ get overscored…”

“ _Everyone_ is overscored at some point.

“You’re not.”

Yuzuru pulled a face. “Scoring is never perfectly fair.” Shoma’s lips twitch in a bitter kind of smile. Yuzuru waited a moment to see if Shoma would say anything else, knowing he hadn’t gotten to what was likely the spark that set this off. He didn’t, so Yuzuru spoke again.  “What special treatment are you supposed to be getting?”

“I don’t know. PR stuff? Or they think JSF if doing something in the ISU to inflate my scores?” Shoma sighed, rolling his eyes.  “Oh and letting me train at competition venues early. But I was only there for a few days, then I went to other rinks in the area. I wasn’t stopping anyone else from training there.”

“I know you weren’t. So does everyone else. No one at that competition thinks you had some kind of unfair advantage.” Yuzuru had heard about this, the fuss that had been made over something so small and inconsequential, how Shoma’s family had been brought into the public sphere of discussion. Yuzuru understood why Shoma would be so upset at this. Figure skating was an expensive sport to watch and to practice. Most elite level skaters came from middle-class backgrounds or were able to get funding support from their federations, sometimes both. Yuzuru’s family hadn’t been able to support both him and his sister and had struggled over the years before Yuzuru had picked up sponsors. Shoma’s family was maybe more comfortable, but even he had struggled before he got sponsorship. Suggesting that anyone had the money to drop on spontaneously booking out an entire rink for a week before a competition was as stupid as it was false.

“Do I have a bad attitude?”

“No?”

Shoma's shoulders drooped forwards. He still wasn’t looking at Yuzuru, now looking down at the floor instead. He looked so small, so sad. Yuzuru wanted to wrap him up and carry him away.

Not all skaters were nice. Some were rude, some were defensive and lashed out when things weren't going their way. Some were inconsiderate and earned a reputation for having a bad attitude. Shoma was not one of those people. He was polite to everyone, thoughtful and careful and quiet. Of course, he was wounded at being attacked for a character he never even came close to displaying. Yuzuru knew how that felt. It was awful. Because how could you dispel something that seemed to come from nowhere? How could you prove false something that stood on lies and twisted words?

“I’m annoying, and no one likes me,” Yuzuru said flatly, reciting some of the things he’s seen said about himself. “I’m rude to other skaters and bully them. I’m an attention whore. I’m fake in front of cameras. I’m too feminine, and that’s bad for the sport. I’ve won things I shouldn’t have won. I’m overscored.” Shoma lifted his gaze slowly, sad eyes finally focusing on Yuzuru through the screen. Yuzuru continued, getting to the worst things. The things that were like a slap in the face when he saw them. The things that made him want to give up shut himself away and quit.  “I lie about my asthma so I can use steroids and get away with it. I lie about being in the earthquake and only talk about it because I want attention and pity.”

“I thought you didn’t read things about yourself,” Shoma said quietly.

“It’s easy to say ‘you shouldn’t look’, but it's hard not to,” Yuzuru gave a tight smile. “No matter what you do, there will always be someone complaining.”

Shoma nodded, mouth twisting bitterly. “You’re good at talking to media, so people call you fake. I’m nervous and awkward, and people say I’m rude.”

“Exactly.” Yuzuru leaned forwards on his desk.  “They don’t need any basis to say these things, they just go ahead and spread whatever they can come up with.”

Shoma titled his head in agreement, lips still drooping sadly. Yuzuru made a soft, unhappy sound at the back of his throat. “It’s not you. It’s not your fault. Nothing they are saying is even anywhere close to the truth.”

“How do you cope with it?”

“Badly.” Yuzuru laughed bitterly.

“I can't even defend myself.”

“But if you look, for every shitty comment there’s usually someone there arguing for you,” Yuzuru told him. “It’s hard, and it sucks, and it always hurts but if you focus more on the people defending you and saying nice things about you...it gets easier.”

“I don’t have the fans that you do.”

“You might not have as many, but you still have a lot,” Yuzuru hedged. Shoma’s popularity was certainly growing. That came with good sides and bad sides, though. “And I know there are fans of me who like you too. I saw a few in Russia wanting to cheer you on even though you weren’t there.”

Shoma managed a small smile.  “That’s cute.”

“There will always be people who hate you for no reason,” Yuzuru said softly. “But there are so, so many people who love you. Remember all the people who love you.”

Shoma stared at his screen, smiling growing, finally reaching his eyes. Yuzuru was so, incredibly frustrated at the distance and the limitations of the technology they used to communicate. They could see each other, but not make eye contact. Yuzuru wanted so badly to pull Shoma close and hold him. But it was impossible.

“I feel a little better.”

“Sometimes you need to get stuff off your chest.” Yuzuru rested his cheek on his hand. He hoped Shoma was telling the truth, but even if it didn’t last long, Yuzuru could see that Shoma was less tense, less closed off. “I’m always here to listen.”

“Me too. If you need someone.”

 

***

 

There were a few days where things felt good.  
Yuzuru’s professor got back to him, first. He had taken a while to find some articles and texts that fit what Yuzuru was looking for or could at least help direct him towards the right path, which at least gave Yuzuru something focused to do with his time until his next checkup.

Then he started is physiotherapy. Going to the club daily again, starting his rehabilitation program, gave Yuzuru a surge of optimism. It felt like progress was right at his fingertips. He could exercise again — so long as it didn’t involve his ankle. His trainer had carefully put together a program; stationary bike for fitness and stamina, various exercises to keep up his core strength, a few of the weight machines to maintain muscle endurance. Nothing wildly different from his usual routine, though Yuzuru didn’t typically use the gym much, certainly not weight equipment, he was assured he wouldn’t bulk up; the weights weren’t supposed to be used daily, enough so when he got back onto the ice he wasn’t rebuilding everything from scratch.

Being able to burn off his energy, having something to focus his mind and starting his physio lifted Yuzuru’s spirits considerably. His days had structure again. He woke up feeling less lost. He felt less stuck. He was moving forward.

It faded.

The first few days with everything in place felt so full and busy and wonderful. Yuzuru ate, he went to the club for his physio, he went to the gym to exercise, he came home and studied,  followed his at-home physio exercises, listened to music, played games. But like a trickle, Yuzuru started to realise it wasn’t working. His ankle still hurt. He rehab was right at the beginning. The injured ankle didn’t feel any different than it had last week. And the little ‘treats’ he gave himself, the ‘relaxation’ time he gave himself was just going through the motions. He listened to music without connecting to it, because he knew he liked music and it usually made him feel good. He played games not enjoying it because it was usually fun. He read books and mangas he usually found interesting but found himself staring blankly at it, reading the same page three or four times, unable to take it in. Nothing felt right. Nothing was doing what it should.

Starting to read the articles his professor had sent him didn’t instantly make everything okay. It gave him something to do for an hour or two a day, and they were interesting enough for Yuzuru to make notes and highlight things that caught his attention. But he wasn’t absorbing anything. It wasn’t fixing the problem. Being able to exercise again helped him feel less caged inside his own body, but it reminded him how much he wanted to be out on the ice. Starting physio was better than doing nothing, but it didn’t heal his ankle. Yuzuru still had at least four weeks of physio to complete, and even then it could be longer. He had already suffered one delay. It was stupid to assume from this point everything would go smoothly.  
The first aim was getting back the range of motion. But when Yuzuru did his exercises, he could feel the pull of pain with each movement and the stiffness when he tried to move the ankle from side to side.

It would get better. That’s all he could tell himself. Just a few more days. Everything would start feeling better. If he kept doing these things, kept trying these things that should make him happy, he’d feel better. It would take some time. A few more days.

 

***

 

Yuzuru had read the same line in this article six times now. It was a useful study, with a decent bibliography that would lead Yuzuru to more texts and articles that could interest him. He had been staring at part of the results portion for some time before he picked up his pen to make a note — keeping a diary of progress could help improve mood as time went on and goals were met. It was worth considering at least.

The sudden jingle from his laptop made Yuzuru jump in his seat, his pen jerking on the paper, making his already untidy scrawl that little bit more ugly. Yuzuru pushed his glasses up his nose and squinted at the time on his screen. It was a little after midnight in Japan, Shoma had the short program for the Grand Prix Final the next day. He shouldn’t be calling now.

Yuzuru accepted it anyway. He wouldn’t talk for long, but he couldn’t deny Shoma if he wanted to speak. If he was stressed again and couldn’t sleep, then the least Yuzuru could do was let him talk.

“Hey!” Shoma’s face filled the screen. The picture was grainy and dark. On his phone, not his laptop. Yuzuru could tell Shoma at least had a few lamps on and was in his bed with the hotel pillows propped up at his back. Shoma smiled brightly, waving one hand cutely. “It’s the 7th in Japan. Happy birthday!”

“Thanks.” Yuzuru managed to return a smile, touched that Shoma had stayed up, waiting for midnight to be the first to say happy birthday. Yuzuru propped his elbows on his desk, tucking his hands beneath his chin. “Wait, don’t you have practice in the morning?”

Shoma nodded. Yuzuru sat up straighter, hands coming down to cross in front of him. “The short is tomorrow! Why are you calling me so late?”

“I wasn’t sleeping anyway.”

“ _Sho_!” Yuzuru exclaimed desperately. “What happened to not getting in the way of each other’s skating, huh?”

“This isn’t getting in the way,” Shoma argued, pouting. “I feel calmer if I talk to you a bit. When you’re not _shrieking_."

“I don’t want to keep you up.” Yuzuru scanned over Shoma’s image on the screen carefully. He didn’t look as bad as last week — the shadows beneath his eyes not as deep, his body language not reading as closed-off and distressed. Still, Shoma saying he hadn’t been sleeping anyway tipped Yuzuru off. “You’re nervous?”

“Yeah,” Shoma admitted casually, not sounding particularly fussed. It was to be expected. “Not as bad as I was before.”

“You’ll be okay,” Yuzuru said, hoping it was reassuring rather than sounding like something empty to placate him. “Don’t think about winning, just do your best.”

Shoma bobbed his head. “What will you do for your birthday?”

“Watch you skate?”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.” Yuzuru smiled. He didn’t have any plans. It would simply be another day; he would get up, go to the club for physio, and go back home. He was so used to having his birthday at competitions he felt as if there was no point in trying to do any kind of celebration stuck in Toronto. He didn’t want a fuss. He was usually happily skating on his birthday. That always felt like the best kind of celebration that he lived another year. “My mom is going to stay up with me to watch. We’ll cheer for you from here.”

Shoma looked down, his mouth curling up into a small, shy smile. “I’ll try my best.”

“You’ll be fine. You know what to do.”  
It seemed fitting to say that to Shoma. That was what Brian told him before he skated to chase away any doubts.

“Okay I should really try to sleep now,” Shoma said, holding back a yawn. “I just wanted to wish you happy birthday.”

Yuzuru nodded. It was too late for Shoma. They couldn’t talk for long. Even if he was having trouble with it, the sooner Shoma tried to sleep the better. He needed to be well rested. “Okay Angel, goodnight.”

Shoma, predictably, gagged. “Angel? Really?”

Yuzuru laughed. “You don’t like that one?”

“It’s awful,” Shoma said, wrinkling his nose. But he was smiling, and even with the dim lighting, Yuzuru could see a blush creeping into his cheeks. That was why Yuzuru kept doing this — thinking of different endearments, trying them out to tease him. Maybe if Shoma thought he was being sincere he’d feel differently about them, but it was a little joke between them. It was always cute to see Shoma fluster and smile while insisting he didn’t like it. “For the record, 'baby' is also terrible.”

“But you like sweetie?” Yuzuru teased.

“That’s the least horrible one so far.” Shoma hid his face in his shoulder shyly. Yuzuru felt a pang of affection.

He could tease all night, but he shouldn’t. Shoma needed to sleep. “Okay, okay. Goodnight.”

Yuzuru blew a kiss to his screen. Shoma rolls his eyes, but his hand still came up automatically to ‘catch’ the kiss. “Ugh. Goodnight.” Yuzuru whined, demanding until Shoma blew him a kiss back.

Yuzuru hadn’t expected to hear from Shoma again, but just before dinner, Shoma messaged him again.

 

 **Shoma** :   
> !!!!!  
> _I slept through my alarm!!!  
_ > I woke up 5 minutes before the bus left!

This was exactly why Yuzuru felt uneasy talking with Shoma before competitions. He didn’t want to say ‘ _I told you so_ ’ but Shoma totally deserved it.

 **Shoma** :  
> I had to wish you happy birthday :(  
> _I made it to the bus it’s okay.  
_ > I’m pretty sure I have my shoes on the wrong feet and my shirt on backwards though.

Yuzuru chuckled. He could easily picture Shoma waking up slowly, seeing the time in a haze and panicking; dressing as quickly as possible and running out the hotel to catch the bus. Shoes barely on, nevermind on the right feet. Mihoko would probably be laughing at him once she got over the inevitable annoyance of him almost being late.

 **Yuzu** :  
> _At least you got some sleep ╭( ･ㅂ･)و_

Shoma responded with a photo, on the bus, head leaning back against the seat, his hair in complete disarray and obviously not brushed at all, eyes half closed, lips parted as if he was groaning at Yuzuru or pretending to be asleep. Yuzuru wasn’t sure which. He had held out his phone far enough that Yuzuru could see his t-shirt was inside-out and behind him, two pairs of hands were sneaking into the frame making V signs.

 **Shoma** :  
> _Nathan and Mikhail say hi.  
_ > _Nathan said something else, but I don’t understand him. He speaks too fast_.

Yuzuru laughed, happily continuing a little back and forth before the bus arrived at the venue and Yuzuru got called for dinner. Shoma seemed so much more relaxed, normal, in his messages. Maybe it was too early in the morning for him to be worked up, or perhaps it did help him so much more to talk before the competition. Yuzuru wondered if this was what Javier meant when he said Shoma might want to be distracted.

 

***.

 

It was like being a child again. Only his mother would never have let him be awake at two-thirty in the morning to watch a skating competition as a child. Still, Yuzuru felt a twinge of nostalgia when the stream started, and he curled up at his mom’s side on the sofa, laying his head on her shoulder to watch. When he looked up at her, she smiled down at him and stroked a hand through his hair lovingly.  
Brian had told him not to watch the final. He thought it would be upsetting, that it wouldn't help his mood and would be hurtful for his progress.

“You’ve been doing great,” Brian told him. “I just don’t want you beating yourself up because you’re not there.”

Yuzuru’s mom had disagreed though.  
“You are a grown man,” she muttered, shaking her head. “You can do whatever you please. If you want to watch it, I’ll watch with you.”

So they both got up and set up to watch it live, cuddled together on the sofa, watching as the six men came out to warm up. His mom cooed at Jason and how happy he looked to be there. Jason always looked happy and excited to be anywhere, that was what made him so easy to like. Yuzru was glad to see Sergei had made it to the final. Even in his 30s, it was still possible to get there and do well. Even if the circumstances weren’t ideal, Yuzuru liked seeing some of the older skaters like Sergei and Adam get to the final.

He couldn’t help but smile when Shoma was announced and cutely waved at the crowd.

“He was so stressed before,” Yuzuru said softly, looking up at his mom. “He looks okay now, right?”

She squeezed his shoulder. “He looks fine.”

It was fun to watch a full competition again, but it made Yuzuru ache with regret. He should have been there, in Nagoya, on the ice. Not at home on the sofa. The stands were so full, the crowd responsive and energetic. Yuzuru missed that energy, the buzz in the atmosphere at a competition. It was fun to watch Jason and Adam work up the crowd, to watch and not have his attention taken away by something else. Just looking at the flow of their blades across the ice, the speed of their spins, the lift on their jumps. He took note of everything — everyone’s progress, errors, things that needed to be worked on and thought about his own programs, what he’d need to take care with when he got back on the ice. His mom laughed at the faces he made as each skater went for their jumps and his nods of approval when they were landed well. Yuzuru watched carefully as Shoma skated. It was easy to understand why his coach found violin pieces suited him well, the way he moved across the ice as taut as the strings but with the flow and rhythm of the notes produced. He did well on his flip and his combination, but the blade slipped out after his axel. Yuzuru’s mom giggled.

“Oh dear, he did the splits.”

Yuzuru chuckled, given permission to at Shoma’s immediate smile. Right from the moment his blade started to slip, right to when he entered his spin, it was clear to see Shoma was grinning at his mistake.

“He should get the GOE for a creative exit,” Yuzuru joked. His mom laughed.

Shoma finished his program, sticking out his tongue and laughing. Yuzuru felt a weight be lifted from him at seeing that smile. It hadn’t been a bad performance, Yuzuru thought it would get 100, maybe a little more. He got 101.51. Both Yuzuru and his mother made matching confused noises at the 2 deductions.

“He must have gotten a time violation?” His mother guessed. Yuzuru nodded in agreement. There was a slight change in his music that may have thrown him off and had him finishing his program late. Pity. But still, Shoma was smiling.  
Nathan made no big mistakes but earned less in his execution. Shoma took second place, but the margin was small.

“I liked Shoma more,” Mom said, stroking Yuzuru’s hair gently.

“You’re biased, you can’t be a judge.” Yuzuru nuzzled into his mom’s shoulder sleepily, feet up on the sofa, legs curled up to make himself smaller. “Will you watch the ladies with me?”

His mom sighed and laid her head on top of his. “Sure, but I might take a nap while the girls warm up.”

 

***

 

Yuzuru had finished with his usual exercise-and-physio and was about the leave when Junhwan bounded up to him, grabbed him by the hand, and dragged him to the observation room.

“You can’t leave without everyone seeing you on your birthday,” Junhwan told him, looking over his shoulder. He had grown more over the past few months, now a fair bit taller than Yuzuru. He flipped his hair out on his eyes, smiling cutely and tugging on Yuzuru’s arm. “Come on, we got a cake.”

Yuzuru’s eyes widened, following after Junhwan. “You got me a cake?”

“Brian and Tracy did,” Junhwan clarified. “It’s your _birthday_. You’re not normally here for it. We had to do something.”

Almost everyone was there waiting for him. A few people missing for one reason or another, Javier had left Toronto already to do some media stuff before his Nationals. He had been one of the people who had sent some kind of birthday greeting while Yuzuru had slept. It was nice to wake up to even simple messages of ‘Happy Birthday’ and ‘get better soon’.

Everyone in the deck that overlooked the rink yelled their greetings as soon as he got there. Yuzuru took it in. Stunned.

“I think Tracy is still lighting the candles on your cake,” Gabrielle told him. “But you got some gifts!”

He let her lead him to one of the tables where there were a small pile of...things. A folded up length of cloth, a book, some other things, some cards.

“They’re from fans,” Elizabet said. “Brian checked to make sure there was nothing weird but it’s just cheering messages.”

"We wanted to hang the banner up because it's really pretty, but we couldn't find any tape," Gabrielle added, gesturing at the cloth.

Yuzuru exhaled softly, picking up the book to flip through it. Inside were so many short messages from fans in English and in Japanese. He could see there were even more in the banner. He bit his lip. Sometimes it surprised him how people cared.

“There’s something outside the club too,” Junhwan said, coming from behind to drape his arms over Yuzuru’s shoulders. Yuzuru remembered when he thought Junhwan would find the affection between friends that was given so freely here odd. But apparently, Korea had a culture of affection between friends too. The older Junhwan got, the taller he got, the more he liked to lean on Yuzuru. “Gabby, show Yuzu the bus stop?”

Gabrielle pulled out her phone and showed Yuzuru a photo of one of the bus stops outside the club. “I spotted it on my way in a few days ago, but I’ve not seen you around.”

Yuzuru felt his cheeks flush. Someone had apparently bought out the advertisement space and put a birthday greeting there.  “Oh, wow.”

“I think it’s cute,” Elizabet said.

Junhwan disagreed. “I think it’s creepy,”

Junhwan let him go when the cake came, and everyone started singing. Yuzuru caught his mom’s eye, she gestured for him to step closer to the cake that was placed on the table, candle’s flickering, waiting to be extinguished.

“Make a wish!” Elizabet urged quietly. Yuzuru took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut.  
‘ _Please, let me be happy._ ’

Yuzuru blew out the candles.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a day late lmao
> 
> As always, let me know your thoughts on this chapter. It was really tricky to write because there were certain things I felt were important and should be addressed but I wanted to do them right.


	22. Rebuild

**Rebuild**   
  


Three loops around three fingers. Pull off, pinch together, wind around the middle twice and slip the earbuds through the loop at the top. Slip the bundle in the box. Repeat.

The monotony of packing things away was calming. Yuzuru completely switched off his mind and lost himself to the repetitive motion of winding earphones, one after another. Moving books to hide away, one at a time. Yuzuru absently reached for the next set of earphones; taking them out of their box, unravelling them, only to wind them up again a bit neater and tighter than before.

He sat cross-legged on the floor of his bedroom, sorting through the stuff he had piled-up on impulse. He shifted, stretching out his right leg. Being in one position for so long had caused his ankle to seize up. He wouldn’t be able to bear weight on it once he got up off the floor. Getting up would be a weird, one-legged scramble. He would probably need to ice his ankle once he got up and run through some stretching exercises to make up for the time spent sitting in one position.

Yuzuru sighed and looked up towards his bed. The notebook he’d been using as a progress diary was open on top of the covers. Starting it had helped put everything in perspective. Since beginning physio, the amount of pain had reduced, so it was manageable. The ability to bear weight had increased, even if Yuzuru still couldn’t stand for long periods of time. Motion had started to return. He could walk without limping, though not without some pain. He just couldn’t walk quickly or with any fast turns. Dynamic movement would come over time, maybe once Yuzuru had started his rehab on ice…  
Improvements weren’t coming as fast as Yuzuru wanted. But there were coming. Bit by bit.

“Meaghan says you might be able to try going on the ice in the next week or so,” Brian had told him earlier. “See if you’re ready.”

In some respects that was good news. In others, it wasn’t. Yuzuru could, potentially, start skating again. But it was later than initially expected.

“You should contact Kobayashi--” Tracy reached out, touching his shoulder and giving it a squeeze. Yuzuru nodded sharply. He had given some updates, though not a lot of detail and not exactly frequent. The last thing he communicated was that he was working hard at his rehabilitation and would try to make it to Nationals. She had responded by telling him it wasn’t necessary; ‘Don’t worry too much about Nationals, your record will be enough to ensure a spot on the Olympic team’. She wanted to know that he wasn’t rushing and would focus on recovering. He had promised that he would.

**~~Nationals.~~ _Withdrawn_.**

Nationals had been a long-shot, even from the first day following the injury. Even before the delays. Even if everything had gone perfectly, he would have only had a week maximum on the ice before the competition. It was never merely unlikely, it was always next to impossible.  
That didn’t mean that withdrawing wasn’t hard. It still hurt. It still felt like he was letting everyone down.

He hadn’t wanted to rely on things he did in the past, his reputation, to get a spot on the Olympic team. He had wanted to earn that spot the same way everyone else had to. He didn’t want anyone to be able to question whether or not he belonged on that team, or whether or not he stole a place from someone else. He had crossed out where he had written Nationals as a goal in his diary and felt something inside of him break. It would have been incredible to go to his second Olympics as a five-time Grand Prix and National Champion. Both had slipped away from him. He hadn’t even had the opportunity to try.

He only had one goal left. Only one goal that mattered. Only one goal he absolutely could not let go of. To go to the Olympics and to win. Everything came down to that.

Yuzuru was packing away a lot of things. His earphones. His games. His mangas and any other book that wasn’t for studying. All tucked away into boxes and slid under his bed so he wouldn’t be tempted to reach for them. He had been distracting himself as if that would make anything better, and it had to stop.  
Because it wasn’t working. He would sit and play games, waiting for it to feel as fun as it used to. Or watch movies and tv shows, waiting for the emotional investment in the characters to kick in, his interest to spark or inspiration to come to him. It became all the more frustrating that he was trying to connect with these things that used to be easy and help him relax and made him feel good but he couldn’t. It was a waste, to spend so much time on diversions that weren’t even working. These things that used to make him happy were failing to serve their purpose.  
So Yuzuru packed them away and slid them under his bed. He could have them back after the Olympics, but for now, he gave them up. Yuzuru had to bring his focus in on that single point on the horizon. Discard everything else. Make his world even smaller. Make every day about moving towards that goal. Actually deal with his problems instead of trying to hide from them, hoping they’d pass on their own.

Yuzuru slipped the last box under the bed. His room felt emptier. Less cluttered. His laptop on his desk with his notebook and his pens, but nothing else. Bookshelf more sparse. Magazines gone. Yuzuru gripped the edge of his bed and hauled himself up, not putting weight on his right side. He moved his ankle slowly, up and down, and then side-to-side even more tentatively. The dull pain sharpened. Yuzuru winced.

His eyes dropped to the bed, to where his phone lay beneath the notebook. He had considered packing that away too - turning it off and hiding it away, but he actually needed it to contact Kobayashi and talk to Brian and Tracy on days when he didn't see them at the Cricket Club or if there was a sudden change in plans. Besides, there was a distinct difference between withdrawing, giving himself time to disconnect and focus on himself, and complete and total self-isolation. Getting rid of his phone meant cutting himself off from Misha, from Nobu, from Keiji and Ryuju and other friends he had that had offered their encouragement, their understanding or advice should he need it, to be there when he reached out. It was very different to slam down that wall and make himself unreachable than to only respond when a friend reached out to him first. Though that wasn't what he was doing with Shoma.

Shoma was the exception. Shoma was different in every way. Because Yuzuru was interacting with him almost the exact same way he had been with games and books and movies. Grasping at this activity, this thing, this person that made him happy, so happy, under normal circumstances and wanting so desperately for it to feel the way he expected it to. Talking to Shoma was an effort in distraction that mostly worked, but it carried that weight that had made other pastimes frustrating and exhausting instead of relaxing.

Yuzuru picked up the phone, feeling numb. He had decided to give up on things that made him happy to pour all of his energy into his recovery -- did that have to mean Shoma too?

‘ _I think we need to put things on hold for a while._ ’

Yuzuru stared at the message he had typed out on his phone. He had been using Shoma as the most significant distraction of all, as a kind of crutch, and that felt wrong. It was unfair to Shoma for Yuzuru to fake being okay, dodging topics and diverting conversations away from his injury, or recovery, or mental state because Yuzuru wanted to pretend everything was fine while they talked. It was unfair for their relationship to be reduced to Yuzuru trying to find an escape from everything else.  
Yuzuru deleted the message. It was too...vague. Not right.

‘ _I think we should take a break._ ’  
  
Yuzuru typed it out, but didn’t even consider hitting ‘send’. It was too harsh, and it wasn’t even true. Yuzu didn't want to break up. Not even temporarily.

This wasn't all about him. It wasn't only his needs that Yuzuru had to think about, but Shoma's too. Yuzuru couldn't bear the thought of hurting him. The possibility made Yuzuru's throat feel tight. It would be too cruel, to pull away when Shoma had opened up to him. Shoma was allowing himself to need Yuzuru, to lean on him, to share his problems. It had been a few days since they had last talked properly; when Shoma had let himself cry from the disappointment of getting silver at the Grand Prix final, though admitting he was relieved it was over so he could focus on the next thing and was motivated to redeem himself with better performances. They had ended up laughing, cursing the one point reduction for time violations. Shoma had ended the call smiling, able to sleep.

Yuzuru bit his lip, squinting as though it would stop tears from forming. How painful would it be for Shoma, to have Yuzuru run away from him now? Now Shoma was reaching out, opening up, letting himself ask Yuzuru for emotional support… Really Yuzuru should try to do the same, repay Shoma’s honesty and trust with the same in return. But their problems were different, their needs were different. Shoma could talk to Yuzuru about the stress, and the pressure and Yuzuru could understand in a way very few could. He could assure Shoma that his feelings were valid and he wasn't weak.  
Yuzuru didn’t know what he needed. He liked the moments where they talked; when he could focus on Shoma and push everything back, when he could smile and laugh and take a break from the injury and rehab and the constant frustration of not being able to do anything. But he didn’t like the distant feeling that he was faking it. The background he worried that this would be a bad thing in the long term.

‘ _I need to focus on my rehab. I can’t be your boyfriend right now._ ’  
  
That just sounded stupid. Yuzuru deleted it immediately. It was selfish. Too selfish. Yuzuru would be hurting Shoma for something that might not even work. If it was terrible to use Shoma as a distraction, it was even worse to treat him like a toy he could pack away in a box and put out of reach for a while because he couldn't deal with anything. This wasn't a game, not to Yuzuru, not to Shoma. Yuzuru couldn't hit pause whenever he pleased and pick up where he left off whenever it was convenient.

He wondered what would be more selfish -- putting their relationship on hold to focus more on rehab, or holding onto their relationship because talking to Shoma is the only time he felt okay?  
Even if it wouldn't hurt Shoma. Even if Shoma wouldn't care and Yuzuru could walk away from him without guilt, he didn't want to. Yuzuru didn't know why he was thinking about this. Self-sabotage? Some weird punishment for getting injured? Some stupid impulse to push everyone away and make things even worse? The whole idea of getting rid of distractions was so Yuzuru would work to improve his well-being and stop avoiding his problems. It had taken him almost no time at all to twist that intention into something harmful.

‘ _I’m mentally in a bad place right now_.’  
  
That was probably just as selfish. If he were to admit that he was struggling and needed Shoma for support. If he were to put the weight of his depression onto Shoma. Yuzuru deleted that one too and threw his phone back onto his bed. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what he was doing. He didn't know how to help himself. He was willing to commit everything to get better. He was willing to give up anything, everything, to be able to reach his goal. But not Shoma.

The problem with all those other distractions was that they made the empty feeling grow. Maybe Yuzuru did use Shoma as a distraction, and perhaps that was bad, maybe he should at least be honest and tell Shoma that things weren’t going well and he was struggling. It was too hard to say over the phone, too much to expect Shoma to be able to deal with it and help when he couldn’t be physically there.

For now, whenever Yuzuru talked to him and made him believe that things were fine, he could almost feel that they could be. That they would be. That he was getting closer to being okay again. He knew he shouldn’t, couldn’t, solely rely on Shoma, or make Shoma responsible for his happiness. But it was okay to need him. It was good to be needed by him. Ending things or taking a break was another way to run away without actually fixing anything. Yuzuru didn’t want to run.

‘ _I won’t be going to Nationals. I’m sorry. I miss you_ ’ was the message Yuzuru ended up sending Shoma, eventually. It was better he heard from Yuzuru, not somewhere else.

 

***

 

It wasn’t much of a push for Yuzuru to stay up a little late. Really, Yuzuru was more of a night owl than a day person anyway, he forced himself to go to sleep before 2am and get up before 11 because training and competition schedules usually demanded it. He was slowly adjusting his sleep schedule so that by February waking and sleeping early would not mess up his body too much. But it had to be a gradual process for the greatest benefits. And one night of staying passed midnight would not cause massive problems. Besides, he found it easier to focus on things in the evenings. Daytime was for training -- or physio and gym time now -- afternoons were for recovering, evenings were for everything else.

Yuzuru ate his dinner, washed up and shuffled back to his room. He did his stretching exercises for his ankle, some yoga that focused on his upper body to keep his flexibility in his waist and hips, and strength in his core. He let his ankle rest, elevated, while he read through an article and made notes. He watched old programs and did some image training in his seat. Midnight came. Yuzuru checked to see if Shoma was available and called him. They had exchanged messages over the past few days, but calls required a certain amount of organisation. But Shoma had pushed his training back, later in the afternoon so he could be free to talk to Yuzuru before heading out.

Yuzuru managed a smile when Shoma answered, and his face finally flickered onto the screen. He looked bright, alert, dressed in his training gear, ready to go. His hair still had a bit of a bed-head look going on, which made Yuzuru assume Shoma took advantage of the ability to sleep in late. He looked better for it, but Yuzuru suspected it would only be a matter of time before the stress started piling up again, and he knew the sleep disturbances hadn’t really ended, just reduced back to what Shoma called ‘normal’. His hair had been trimmed, so it wasn’t as wild or in his eyes as much and he seemed to have gained back the weight he had lost when he had gotten sick. It was so much better to see Shoma in the daylight. His skin looked flushed with colour and healthy rather than bleached out by the light from his screen. That was why it was worth it to stay up late.

“Hey,” Yuzuru greeted with a wave. “It’s finally the 17th here!”

Shoma giggled. “You waited until it was the right day in Canada?”

“Of course.” Shoma laughed again, and Yuzuru couldn’t help but feel incredibly fond. His laugh was really too cute. “Happy birthday.”

Shoma beamed. “Thank you.”

Yuzuru propped his elbows on his desk, tucking his hands beneath his chin. “Do you have plans for today?”

“I’m going to hang out with some friends in a bit, and I think my family is going out for a meal later.” Shoma shrugged. Shoma went out a lot more than Yuzuru did with rinkmates and friends from university classes, people he had known in high school. Yuzuru wondered if he would be like that, if he hadn’t moved to Toronto after finishing school -- going out after practice to play billiards or hang out in karaoke rooms. Probably not. There were a lot of reasons why Yuzuru chose to keep to himself a lot of the time. Shoma leaned back in his chair. Yuzuru could see the room behind him; the unmade bed, the jacket thrown across it, the sun streaming in through the window. Shoma cocked his head to the side, lifting his shoulders. “Nothing special, really.”

“Have fun,” Yuzuru said with a small smile. “I wish I could be there.”

Shoma’s voice dropped, quieter, his eyes softened. “Me too. But it’s okay. I get to see you now.”

Yuzuru sat back on his chair with a sigh. “I sent off the withdrawal papers yesterday, so I guess it’s double official now.”

Shoma’s expression fell, doe-eyes turning sadder. “Are you doing okay?” He asked, shifting in his seat. “It’s just...you haven’t really said much to me about how your rehab is going?”

“There’s not a lot to say?” Yuzuru’s eyes dropped down. That much was true. Rehab wasn’t exactly thrilling stuff, not while he wasn't even on the ice get. Developments were slow. Yuzuru lifted his gaze and sighed. “I was a bit more hurt than I first thought. So it’s going slower than I wanted.” Yuzuru stopped himself, forcing a tight, reassuring smile. “But I’m okay.”

Shoma’s worried frown didn’t clear. Yuzuru recognised that this could be an opportunity to be more honest, to let Shoma know he had been struggling, but he didn’t think it would achieve anything. Shoma would want to help but ultimately be helpless, both of them would feel worse. Anyway, things would start getting better soon. He’d rather share the good things than the bad. Yuzuru sat up straighter in his chair, clasping his hands together. “I’ve been cleared to try going on the ice in a few days. To see if I’m ready.”

“Oh, that’s good!” Shoma perked up, but only briefly, his shoulders sagging again almost immediately. “So… you won’t come for the team announcement?”

“I thought about it,” Yuzuru told him, voice coming out weak. It would be such a big moment for Shoma, for everyone on the team. Yuzuru wanted to be there. He wanted to share that moment with Shoma, the moment one of his dreams became a reality. But he wasn’t exactly in the best condition to be in the public eye again. Still, Yuzuru had considered going to Japan anyway, even if he avoided making a public appearance. “I wanted to try to go home for New Year, so we could maybe meet but--”

“Your rehab is more important,” Shoma interrupted with an understanding nod. His eyes flickered as if trying to make eye contacted through the screen. “It’s okay. I get it.”

“My family already booked flights to come to Toronto for New year,” Yuzuru explained miserably. “My mom knew I’d end up having to skip Nationals…”

“At least you’ll still have New Year with your family.” Shoma chewed his bottom lip for a second, casting his gaze down. Yuzuru wished they were sitting together, not just looking at each other through video of inconsistent quality. He wanted to see how Shoma’s dark lashes contrasted with his honey coloured skin. He wanted to feel the softness of Shoma’s cheek under his fingers. Instead, all he could do was watch Shoma’s eyes flit back up towards him, and his mouth pulls into a weird, thin grimace that was too sad to be a smile. “I can’t go to Toronto. I wish I could.”

This hadn’t been what Yuzuru wanted. Their relationship reduced to nothing more than line conversations that were spread out over days because their schedules and timezones couldn’t always line up and a few hours of video calls a week where one of them was doomed to be tired and struggling to stay awake. He knew it would be tough, they both knew that. It was okay, the distance, when they thought they would meet after a few months and have a chance to spend time together in person. The plans for Christmas and New Year had been important to Yuzuru. He didn’t want them to only date in hotel rooms at competitions and over the phone for most of the year.

But everything had gone wrong. They wouldn’t see each other at Christmas. They probably couldn’t go out to a fancy restaurant together, but Yuzuru really liked the idea of eating KFC and strawberry shortcake together in Shoma’s apartment, or in his bedroom in his family home.

Yuzuru hadn’t wanted their relationship to be limited to competitions, but right now only seeing each other at competitions would be a luxury. They were getting by on this long distance arrangement, they were keeping in touch and not drifting apart. In some ways, they even managed to feel closer. But Yuzuru ached to be touched, to be held. This was okay for a while, but they had never intended for this to be it. They never meant for this to be everything. Yuzuru wasn’t sure this would be enough if he didn’t know that they would have some chance of actually meeting in the future. Every opportunity that came and passed by hurt.

“I wish I could go to Nagoya,” Yuzuru rasped. His throat felt tight. “Or have you stay with us in Sendai for a weekend--”

“Yuzu, it’s okay. I just want you to get better,” Shoma told him with a sincerity that made Yuzuru ache. “Do you think you’ll do Four Continents?”

Yuzuru shook his head. “It’s too close to the Olympics.” He almost laughed. No matter how much he wanted to see Shoma, he couldn’t throw himself into a competition he likely wouldn’t be ready for only to see him. Yuzuru continued, lifting his shoulders and making his tone lighter. “Anyway, I’ll need all the extra time to train I can get. My stamina is going to be shit.”

Shoma hummed. “You’ll need a lot of stamina for Pyeongchang.”

Yuzuru paused, eyes narrowing. He had said it casually, but there was a glimmer in Shoma’s eyes, a sly curl to his lips, that let Yuzuru know he wasn’t talking about skating. “Sho.”

“What? You will.” Shoma’s grin betrayed the faux-innocent in his voice. He raised his eyebrows, just in case Yuzuru somehow hadn’t picked up on what he was suggesting.

“I know,” Yuzuru said, playing along, biting his lip. He liked this change in tone, the shift away from regret and pining to more playful. It came naturally, but he appreciated it. He waggled his eyebrows at Shoma in response. “You better have your stamina up too.”

“I already have better stamina than you,” Shoma quipped, smirking. “You need to be able to keep up with me.”

“Okay, _baby_ ,” Yuzuru teased.

Shoma wrinkled his nose in disgust, but he was grinning. “Do your best, _honey_.”

Yuzuru laughed. He would have to sleep, and Shoma had to train, but even if their conversation was brief, it ended on a good note.

 

  
***

 

Yuzuru sat on the bench and hung his head, teeth holding his bottom lip, fingernails digging into his palms.

His ankle’s condition had improved from a few weeks ago, but it wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t even that being on the ice and doing even the most basic of stroking exercises was painful. He had expected some pain. It ached when he walked too fast or stood for too long, and there was a big difference between standing and moving on solid land and the kind of movement and balance you needed on ice. Of course, it would hurt. Of course, it would be hard, the ankle had to do so much more just to balance. The pain that stabbed at the ankle and ripped through his calf was expected, maybe worse than what he hoped for, but not surprising.

The real problem, the real reason Yuzuru knew he was not ready to start on-ice rehabilitation quite yet, was the weakness. It felt like the ankle would fold beneath him at any moment. It popped and clicked at every shift in weight and attempt of movement. He could skate through pain, take it easy and weight for the ankle to adjust and strengthen, but this was too much. He couldn’t skate like this.

He had tried. Keeping on a flat edge, feeling the ice. He could lie. He could pretend it was okay and cautiously proceed with short sessions on the ice, but the risk of the ankle folding and resetting the injury back to what it had been five weeks ago stopped him. Another week or two off the ice to strengthen the ankle a little bit more and another five weeks to rebuild his steps and spins and jumps was by far the more attractive option than pushing and risking sending himself back into a condition where there would be absolutely no way whatsoever he would be fit for the Olympics.

Tracy sat down beside him, touching his shoulder gently. Yuzuru wasn’t crying, but he was close. He squeezed his eyes shut, frustration clawing his throat. He had been looking forward to trying the ice so much, and for a brief, blissful moment he had been able to enjoy that first glide, pushing himself forward. It hadn’t lasted more than a second.

Yuzuru sniffed and looked up at Tracy. Her expression was patiently understanding, like she didn’t need Yuzuru to say in words what he was thinking. He did anyway. He needed to say it out loud to accept it as reality. “I’m not ready. Ankle is too weak.”

“We can get you back in the ice in the new year. It’s fine,” Tracy told him. Yuzuru got the feeling that she had considered this as a possibility, perhaps when he got the warning that bone bruising heals slowly.

She gave Yuzuru’s shoulder a squeeze. “The rink will close for a while around Christmas anyway. We have time. We’ve done this before, we know what you are capable of.”

Yuzuru looked down at his knees. Tracy was always good at offering a perspective that gave the opportunity for optimism. If the club would close over Christmas anyway, then Yuzuru wasn’t really missing out on anything. It wasn’t entirely effective, but it was some small comfort. And she was right in the sense of knowing his general capabilities, but it was hard to know how much of that potential he could reach given his condition. Tracy could tell he was unconvinced. She ruffled his hair to get him to look back up at her. “You’ve been keeping up with your image training?”

“Yeah.”

“And your general fitness?”

“Yeah,” Yuzuru said, almost a sigh. He knew where she was going with this.

She flashed him a kind smile. “Then we will be able to build you up faster than last time.”

She was right in theory, but Yuzuru’s still felt his insides clutch. “I’m scared.”

Tracy’s expression faltered. Yuzuru looked away. There weren’t many people on the ice or milling around near them. When Yuzuru held his breath, he heard nothing. They had chosen the quietest time between sessions for privacy. Probably for this reason - so if something went wrong, Yuzuru could vent without feeling embarrassed.

“I’m scared I won’t be better in time.”

“Oh, Yuzu. It’s okay to be scared. It’s normal.” Tracy tucked Yuzuru’s hair behind his ear, smoothing it down. She had her own children not far from his age, it came naturally to her to comfort him, advise him, give more emotional support. “We’re going to do everything we can to get you ready. We have time. And you know you can get yourself competition ready in as little as two weeks. We have time to build you up.”

Yuzuru nodded stiffly, taking deep breaths to calm himself.

“Are you doing okay?” Tracy asked gently, fingertips still stroking his hair.

“I’m...It’s hard, but I’m managing.”

If Yuzuru thought about it, compared himself now to a few weeks ago, the difference in his mental state was massive. The emptiness he had feared never gripped him the way it had before. He was still functional, there were still glimmers of hope and motivation within him. His determination to be fit in time for February was strong enough to at least give him something to hold onto while waves of despondency threatened to drown him.

The little exercises he had been utilising from articles he had been reading were helping; keeping a progress diary did help to keep everything in perspective, talking regularly to Brian and Tracy and Maeghan about his recovery helped keep him grounded, and the efforts to think positively alongside his image training was starting to have an effect. It was still hard, he still didn’t feel, but it could be worse. His feelings might be muted, dialled back, his motivation sometimes slipping away from him and optimism occasionally impossible to fake, and right now he was sad and frustrated, but that wouldn’t last forever.

Yuzuru gave Tracy a thready smile. “I’ve been feeling better.”

“Are you talking to anyone?”

Yuzuru shrugged. “Javi came over once, but he’s busy now and we...I can’t lean on him too much. I talk to Shoma, but not about my ankle and stuff.”

“Why not?”

“He’s stressed too. He has to represent Japan as the top man while I’m not there. I don’t want to put more on him,” Yuzuru explained. “And I like having something that feels normal.”

Tracy’s face grew softer as he spoke, like she understood. Yuzuru felt a pang of regret with a sharp edge of longing. It would be two more months since Yuzuru would see Shoma, at least. It had already been nearly half a year since they had actually been in the same place. Yuzuru should be in Japan now, he should be making his way to the hotel or settling into his room, maybe pullings some strings so he could share a room with Shoma.

He should be doing sign-ups or the short program draw, joking with Shoma, Ryuju and Keiji, playing video games with a bunch of the boys after dinner and seeking chances to get Shoma alone. He could imagine them teasing each other, careful not to be overbearing before competing, but not being able to stop themselves from kissing at any chance the could, giggling against each other’s mouths. Yuzuru bit his lip, trying to prevent his face from crumbling in sadness, but he failed.

Tracy made a soft, distressed sound at Yuzuru’s suddenly becoming so visibly upset. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just...I really wanted to see him at Nationals. I was looking forward to competing. Like, if I wanted to win I would have to fight for it, and he’d need to defend his title? That would be really fun. And I wanted to spend time with him. Hanging out. Like normal. But --” Yuzuru shook his head. It seemed childish to sulk over not being able to see his boyfriend when there were much bigger, much more important issues involved. “It’s stupid, right?”

Tracy let out a breath, a little bit relieved and maybe also a bit amused. “No. That’s not stupid.”

Yuzuru sniffed. “We weren’t supposed to spend this much time apart. I feel like I’m letting him down.”

“Oh, Yuzu,” Tracy cooed. “I don’t think he feels that way. He probably just wants you to get better.”

“I know. He already said rehab is most important.” Yuzuru looked up at her with a sullen pout. “But I miss him.”

“Have you talked to your mom about it?” Tracy asked, rubbing at Yuzuru’s hunched shoulders. “Maybe she could work something out.”

Yuzuru shook his head. “It’s okay. I will be okay. It’s only because Nationals is now and I thought I would be there. I’ll be able to focus.” It would pass, this petulant disappointment over not seeing Shoma. Nationals would end, they would pass into the new year, and Yuzuru could continue getting by on messages and video calls, looking forward to when Shoma would be actually in front of him, within reach, but still able to focus on things that should take priority.

As comfortable he felt with his mother, and as well as she had accepted Shoma as Yuzuru’s boyfriend, it was uncomfortable to talk to her about their relationship. Passing mentions and casual conversation was one thing but actually asking for advice seemed strange. Yuzuru didn’t really have anyone he could talk to, about relationships. Not really. “Is it bad that I don’t tell him I’m sad?”

Tracy considered him for a moment, humming under her breath in thought. “If he makes you feel better anyway I don’t think you have to force yourself to talk about things you don’t want to. But I don’t think it’s healthy that he’s the only person you are talking to. You can’t make him your whole world.”

Yuzuru nodded, resigned. Codependency wouldn't be good for either of them. She pressed on. “Have you heard from anyone else? Misha? Keiji?”

“Other people message me, but I don’t feel like talking,” Yuzuru admitted softly.

“Try. I think it will be good for you to talk to other people. Not just Shoma, not just me. Spread it out a little, and you won’t be burdening anyone. Not Shoma, not Javi, not anyone else.”

Yuzuru almost laughed, sitting himself up straighter, moving his legs to take even the smallest amount of pressure off the right side. “I’ll try.”

He did try. At least to start a conversation, open a channel or two that he could tap into in the future. He talked to Misha, who responded quickly, making time for Yuzuru even though he had his own life to manage. Yuzuru pushed himself to be honest about he felt, at least a little bit, knowing that Misha had dealt with similar injuries and that soul-crushing process of realising the injury might not ever fully recover, making the choice to push through for one or two more seasons, accepting that retirement was inevitable.

There was also Satoko, who had sent her well wishes when she heard he had been injured, and again when he withdrew from Nationals. Satoko was young, but mature, and had faced injury but fought to recover and come back stronger, not only for one more season, but for a longer career.

Yuzuru messaged her, wary of the timing so close to Nationals. Ladies would be a rough battle for spots at the Olympics. He hoped he wouldn’t be a distraction to her.

> _Last year. Were you scared you wouldn’t get better?_

  
**Satoko:** _All the time._

> _What did you do?_

**Satoko:** _The only thing I could do. I stuck with my rehab, followed the diet, did all the exercises and stretches… I just got through each day the best I could._  
_One day you’ll realise you haven’t felt any pain in a while. You spend weeks and weeks thinking it’ll never go away but it takes you so long to realise when it’s gone._

Yuzuru smiled. He knew that feeling, of one day it dawns on you that walking, skating, jumping hasn’t hurt for a few days but not wanting to trust that lack of pain because it could return overnight. But a few days because a few weeks, and you finally had the confidence to whisper to yourself ‘ _I’m better_ ’.

> _Do you feel strong now?_

**Satoko** : _Yes ^-^_

Yuzuru wished her good luck, to do her best. There was little doubt in Yuzuru’s mind that she would make the team. Because she was a little like himself; set on one goal, willing to do anything for it.

 

***

 

Yuzuru thought he really should stop accepting calls from Shoma when it was late at night in Japan, and he was supposed to be skating the next day, but it was hard to resist whenever Shoma called, and those calls at least tended to be short.

Shoma was in the hotel bed, resting on his side with his phone out in front of him. He had asked sweetly how his session on the ice had been, and Yuzuru had tried to be casual about it, worried that making the situation sound bad - even as bad as it was - would put extra pressure on Shoma ahead on the competition. So Yuzuru shrugged and told him it was just a test to feel the ice and that he’d be skating again after the new year break. Shoma had smiled. Yuzuru wondered if he told himself this over and over again, how long until he would feel genuinely positive about it?

“Who are you rooming with?” Yuzuru asked, changing the subject at the sound of shuffling in the background.

“Ryu,” Shoma answered quietly, quickly casting his eyes off to the side, presumably at the other bed. “Don’t worry, He’s asleep.”

Yuzuru dropped his volume anyway. “I feel bad that we’re always talking when it’s late for you.”

“I like talking to you while I’m in bed.” Shoma fluffed his pillow, wiggling to make himself more comfortable. “It makes it a bit easier to sleep.”

“Thanks,” Yuzuru deadpanned.

Shoma clucked his tongue softly. “I meant in a good way.”

“Do I visit you in your dreams?”

“Sometimes.”

“What do we do?”

“ ...this isn’t that kind of phone call!” Shoma protested, smirking. Yuzuru cackled.

The truth was, they hadn’t done anything even close to that in some time. Yuzuru’s mood wouldn’t allow it after the injury, and Shoma’s stress wasn’t conducive for that either. But Yuzuru felt a flutter of interest in the pit of his stomach at the suggestion. Shoma’s tongue peeked out to wet his lips. Yuzuru’s eyes followed.

“It could be,” he said with a playful smirk and a raised brow. “Take your shirt off.”  
  
Shoma looked lovely, even when only illuminated by the light of his phone screen. His eyes were dark and glinted with mischief. Yuzuru felt as if he could reach out and touch his cheek, smooth over it, make those eyes slide shut and feel those lips against his own. He wanted that so much.

Shoma’s eyes widened. “No!” He flustered, maybe a bit too loud.

“Mmm,” Yuzuru hummed, barely holding back his laughter at Shoma’s rapidly reddening face. “Tell me what we do in your dreams.”

  
It didn’t feel the way it should. It was muted, surface level, but it was there. A tug of attraction, the ghost of a touch of desire, a memory of excitement. Enough of a feeling that Yuzuru could not just play along, but actually engage and enjoy it.

“ _Yuzu_ ,” Shoma whined, looking over to the side again. When his eyes flitted back to the screen, he scowled. “Stop looking at me like that, it’s not gonna happen.”

Yuzuru broke into giggles first, but Shoma followed, covering his mouth with his hand to try to stay quiet. They couldn’t do anything sexual now, not with Ryuju in the room, but Yuzuru could at least have some fun. He still felt the urge to tease. And that was a relief, that this part of their relationship-- the attraction, the flirting, the joking -- wasn’t gone. Even after months of not seeing each other and there not being much joy for either of them in a while.

“Are you nervous?” Yuzuru asked once they had settled.

“Not really?” Shoma shook his head, about as much as he could with it smashed against his pillow. “Just...normal.”

“Good.”

Shoma sighed, the free hand not holding his phone clutching his pillow. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too.” Yuzuru felt it again, the ache of longing in his chest. He sniffed, being mindful of the time. “Should I sing you a lullaby?”

“No.”

Yuzuru started anyway, just to see the amused grimace of Shoma’s face, torn between hating it and loving it. Shoma groaned. “Please stop.”

“Sleep,” Yuzuru urged. “Don’t get a dumb time reduction tomorrow.”

Shoma wrinkled his nose and stuck out his tongue. Yuzuru blew him a kiss.

***  
It sucked, being stuck in Toronto, not really making any progress. Yuzuru didn’t watch the competitions for Nationals. They were too late, and he was too set in his schedule to break for them. It would be too stressful, too frustrating, to watch. Missing them for a second time, miss them this season, was annoying. Catching up on the results and the announcement of the team brought up an odd dichotomy within Yuzuru; the happiness for Satoko and pride for Kaori clashing with the heartache he felt for Mai and Wakaba and every other girl that had worked so hard but failed to meet their goal. His joy in sharing the experience of another Olympics with Shoma and Keiji, and the waves of sadness for Takahito.  
“This is it for me,” Takahito told him, a few days after the end of Nationals, when Yuzuru had sent his condolences. Takahito might not have been a particularly close friend, but he was a friend nonetheless. He had trained in the same rink as Yuzuru when he was young. He had helped Yuzuru with his jumps while he was still a junior. He had stayed in competition the years after the last Olympics working towards a chance to get to the next one. He hadn’t. He didn’t have in in him to try a third time.

Family coming to visit was enough to keep him suitable distracted. It almost convinced him that he wasn’t really missing out on anything. It made that week go a bit faster, having Saya there to help with his physiotherapy and his dad there to look over his study notes, humming in keen interest while Yuzuru explained them.  
By the time they left, Yuzuru was getting ready to put on his skates again.

The process of building up steps and turns was one that would take days, maybe even weeks. Because it wasn’t just about getting the movement back, it was getting the strength in very specific places back to where it needed to be. It still hurt, but at the very least in the time since he first stepped on the ice, the ankle got enough back that it didn’t feel on the brink of collapse the entire session.

Yuzuru tried to be patient and careful, warming up the ankle carefully before taking to the ice, taping the ankle for support, following Tracy’s instruction, slowly building up the difficulty, stopping when the ache of use was coupled with a weakness. When it felt as if the ankle wouldn’t hold up much longer, he would leave the ice. Then he would immediately apply ice, elevate, rest for the remainder of the day only stretching and exercising the ankle once more before sleeping to stop it from seizing up. Sessions got longer, but Yuzuru did not have time. Not now. Not enough time to wait.

Junhwan returned from Korea, smiling and energised. Javier returned from Spain, focused and sharp. Yuzuru watched them, a twinge of envy whenever he saw them jump. He wasn’t there yet. But there was a comfort too, when Tracy had them stroking together and everything felt normal. When Yuzuru started regaining his spins, to have Junhwan beside him on the ice, working on keeping his layback centred.

The sun was low, casting a red and orange glow across the ice. Yuzuru had made it through a full session, not for the first time, but it was one of those days where frustration at his limitations burned far more than the ache that gripped his leg. He stayed, after others had left, cooling down a little longer. A few more minutes. Another few run-throughs of the stroking exercises Tracy had them run through in classes for control, smooth gliding on a deep edge, swift turns, speed with the smallest of effort.

Yuzuru was running out of time. He needed to start jumping soon, or he might not be able to have his quads back in time. That thought was a heavy weight that loomed over him every day. His patience with his body was wearing thin. He needed to push himself. Push through the pain. Deal with the consequences later. He held his breath, schooling a neutral expression as he shifted his weight entirely onto his right foot, gliding backwards on the outside edge. His breath was punched out of him as he made a bracket turn and a sharp, fresh stab of pain rippled through him.  
He would need to take painkillers. He had been avoiding it, hoping desperately that the treatments would take hold and everything would pay off. It wasn’t happening. The doctors couldn’t tell him why without a scan and Yuzuru wouldn’t get a scan before the Olympics -- too afraid that they’d discover some complication that would force him to withdraw. Again.  
Training and competing with painkillers ran a whole other set of risks. The dosage would have to be delicately balanced, so the pain was dulled enough to making skating possible, but not so much that Yuzuru could get reckless. It would have to be enough that the pain was tolerable, but not so much that Yuzuru would become drowsy and slow. The risk of setting himself back and the possibility of aggravating the damaged ligaments enough that a full recovery became impossible made Yuzuru hesitate, wanting to hold off going in painkillers until it was absolutely necessary. They were nearing that time. Brian and Tracy had agreed it was time for Ghislain to start working on regaining jumps but shared his reservations about training on painkillers.

  
“If this were any other time, I’d tell you no,” Brian sighed.

“If it were any other time, I wouldn’t do it.”

The scrape of a second pair of blades next to him broke Yuzuru out of his thoughts. He looked over, not breaking out of the series of steps he was going through. Javier smiled at him, slipping into the same routine with ease. The warmth of the setting sun streaming through the windows painted Javier’s skin in golden hues, catching amber highlights in his hair. Yuzuru smiled back.

They didn’t speak. Just skated. Forward glides, bracket turns, choctaws for momentum, three-turns, mohawk to change foot. Every fundamental type of step and turn covered on both feet, arms stretching up and out with the steps. Javier moved in perfect sync with Yuzuru, matching each step, each gesture, every breath. For some reason that calmed Yuzuru. He wasn’t alone.

When they came to a stop, Yuzuru could see Brian watching him, leaning against the door frame, smiling the most gentle smile Yuzuru had ever seen on him. His eyes looked a little misty.

“I think they need to resurface for the next group,” Javier said, getting both hands on Yuzuru’s shoulders and giving them a squeeze. “Let’s go.”

Yuzuru nodded, following Javier off the ice. Brian had slipped away, probably heading back to his office. Yuzuru sighed when he sat down on one of the benches in the changing room. He took his time taking off his boots, getting ready to head out and catch a ride home. He flexed his right ankle slowly, carefully. He would ice it when he got home.  
Javier flung his bag over his shoulder casually, ruffling Yuzuru’s hair in passing.

“See you tomorrow, yeah?”

***

Ghislain had a rule. Get all the singles, then the axel, get them with height and then go to the doubles, then the axel, then move on. It wasn’t just a race to get to the quad, it was an opportunity to improve quality even further. Address minor issues at a foundational level and build back up stronger than before. Perfect form in singles would mean perfect form in doubles, and triples, and quads.

Yuzuru had gone through his singles without the painkillers, but doubles needed a bit more height, more rotation, so the force of the landing was different. The pain of landing a single had been bad, but landing a double was impossible.  
He went on the painkillers.

They worked out the dosage while Yuzuru built up his doubles. One shot was enough to get through a training session - the warm up, the steps, the jumps. It was like putting the pain behind a glass wall - Yuzuru still knew it was there, but it couldn’t quite get at him.

Some jumps came easily to him, some required more care. Ghislain watched the loop, the flip and the lutz carefully, trying to figure out any way at all that Yuzuru’s technique could be tweaked to lessen the strain on the ankle and the risk of further injury. But they limited how much they did in a day. One or two good ones, then stop. If there was a problem, fix it, get a good jump, then move on. Once all the singles were there without issues, get some extra height on them, delay the rotation. Check the entry. Check the axis. Check the air position. Start the doubles.

“If you can land a couple of good jumps each session, that’s enough.” Ghislain shrugged. “At this stage, the fewer, the better. Why do more than necessary?”

It had been days since they started trying for the double axel. Yuzuru didn’t know what was going on, but he couldn’t get it. They would run through the other jumps, just one or two to make sure they were all there, keep the form fresh in Yuzuru’s muscle memory. He would try and only manage a single. Or he would try and fall. He would try again and over-rotate and step out. He wanted to move on. Building up to triples would take longer, getting them all right and strong would take more time. Getting a few to a stage where he could work on the quad from them...It would all take time they didn’t have. January was almost over. He had a little over four weeks to get his triples back, get quads back, get himself in a state to skate a full before it was time to go to Korea. Even less time, if he went for the team event.

Yuzuru threw himself into the air, trying one more time. He failed again. He slammed a fist against the ice. Why couldn’t he make this work? This should be easy for him. This should be nothing. He should be able to do this.  
His ankle throbbed.

He sat in the locker room, panic rolling over him in waves. He wouldn’t be ready in time. It would take too long to get his triples stable, too long to get his quads back and stable. He couldn’t even get the double axel, what chance did he have with everything else? He leaned forward, feeling sick, and broke.

Yuzuru didn’t know when Javier had followed him into the locker room, or when he had sat beside him. But as he shuddered out a breath and the tears started to fall, an arm wrapped around him and pulled him in. Yuzuru let go. He turned himself towards Javier, bringing his arms around his neck and sobbed into his shoulder.

“Shhhh,” Javier whispered, bringing Yuzuru in close. “It’s okay. You’re not alone. I’m here.”

He let Yuzuru cry, holding him tight, stroking his back. It was like a dam burst, and everything came spilling out. Fear, frustration, complete and utter demoralisation. Another low. Every time he took a step forward he seemed to be pushed back, again and again.

“That’s right. Let it out.” Javier rocked Yuzuru from side to side, his cheek resting against the top of Yuzuru’s head. Yuzuru clung at him, his hands fisting the back of his t-shirt. It was damp with sweat and clammy, but it was Javier. It was visceral, real, grounding. Like the pressure of Javier’s thumb rubbing circles against his back and the steady rise and fall of Javier’s chest against him. Javier spoke soft and low, his accent making his voice seem warmer somehow. “You’re okay.”

Yuzuru stopped crying. Eventually. His mind quieted. He sniffled and sat back.

“Tomorrow--” Javier lifted his hands, cupping Yuzuru’s face and tenderly wiping away his tears. “--we’ll try again tomorrow, yeah?”

Yuzuru hiccuped and nodded. “Tomorrow I’ll do better.”

“That’s right.” A smile spread across Javier’s face. “Tomorrow, you’ll do better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god I am RELEASED  
> Next chapter is the start of the Olympics :DD Which will hopefully be much easier to get through because the tone will be much lighter.
> 
> I feel like not much really happens in this chapter welp sorry


	23. Reunited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuzuru arrives in Pyeongchang.

**Reunited**  
  
Yuzuru always tried to learn from the people around him. In all of his training mates, coaches, rivals, friends he could find something that he could strive to emulate.

He had always admired Shoma’s mental strength. 

Even when Shoma got anxious in the run-up to a competition, even when the noise of media and fans got to him in the days before, he always stepped onto the ice thinking only about skating his program. Something in his mind clicked when he was in the venue, while he was warming up or when he stepped on the ice. Somehow he could shut those things out and bring all of his thoughts back entirely to himself; his condition, his skating, how much he had trained. Yuzuru had talked him over the past few months, trying to help him through some of the excess stress he didn't usually have to deal with, but Shoma was perfectly capable of getting through the actual competition without Yuzuru. He liked to talk, but it was always pretty clear that those conversations were because Shoma wanted them, not because he needed them.   
  


Shoma had a focus on his own progress and performance that seemed to partially take his thoughts out of the competition. Unlike Javier, Shoma could watch other skaters and even see their scores come in without it sending him into a panic. Yuzuru frequently watched his rivals too, but Shoma didn’t do it to stoke his competitive fire the way Yuzuru did. He watched because he enjoyed watching. It was a kind of distraction as he warmed up and stretched. Shoma was as competitive as everyone else, but he had a way of going into a performance that was rarely about skating to beat someone. He skated to try his best, do what he could, try to show everything he had worked for.   
  


He had that kind of attitude coming out of competitions as well. But that was something Yuzuru could say they shared; leaving a competition, thinking about what was good and wanting to train more to hold onto it. Thinking about what wasn’t so good, and wanting to train more to fix it.

So it wasn’t odd at all that after Four Continents was over and Shoma was back in Japan, he had already started to direct the frustration caused by another silver medal into his preparations for the Olympics.

“I’m happy for Boyang,” Shoma said earnestly, cradling his coffee in his hands. Shoma had actually managed to get up reasonably early in the morning to talk to Yuzuru before practice, which meant he was slightly drowsy and his hair was a fluffed mess, but in the daytime rather than at night. 

Yuzuru hummed. He hadn’t really watched the whole competition but had caught up on it later. He hadn’t experienced the ennui he had during Nationals. Maybe because he had never really intended on doing Four Continents, even if his ankle hadn’t been injured.

Shoma paused to take a sip before continuing. “He damaged  _ both  _ ankles. I’m happy he had a strong comeback.” 

Yuzuru pursed his lips for a split second. He knew precisely what Shoma meant from the pointed look he shot over his coffee mug. “Don’t,” he whined, “you’ll jinx me.”

Shoma giggled at him, but let the conversation move on. 

Shoma was glad to have one more reference point to use for his training. Yuzuru could understand that. Competition prep was hard and intense, but it also something he reveled in. It was good to push himself, to finish training on the eve of competition and know that for the past two weeks or so, he had done everything he physically could to win. So often, something held Yuzuru back from that: an injury, an asthma attack. But he still chased that feeling of doing everything he could at that time to be prepared. Shoma always trained hard. It was difficult to imagine him training even harder, but Shoma seemed resigned to do just that.   
  


Yuzuru hummed at Shoma’s determined declaration that he was going to improve his quad flip and loop success rate. “Even if I barely land them, as long as I’m not super under or falling, it’s okay.”

“You’ve got about a week.”

“It’s closer to two weeks,” Shoma said sulkily. Yuzuru wished he could reach out, tickle his sides, tease him for his surly pout. He could see him starting to hedge, some of his confidence being knocked back. A week wasn’t a long time. Neither was two.

Yuzuru hadn’t meant to give Shoma doubts. He needed Shoma to believe that a week or two was enough time to get a jump stable. Because Yuzuru needed to believe it was enough time. 

“You work hard. You’ll be able to improve them. Really you only need to feel more confident with them,” he said, flashing a reassuring smile. “You’re not going from the opening ceremony?”

Shoma shook his head. “I’ll go two days before the team short, I think?”

“I’m not going to be there for the team event.” Yuzuru looked down. He had meant to tell Shoma earlier, but it wasn’t something he was comfortable dumping in a line message, and there wasn’t much chance to talk since Yuzuru had made the decision. 

“I know. Yamada- _ sensei _ already told me.”

“I need all the time I can get to prepare,” Yuzuru explained. He wished he didn’t need that extra time, but there was no way at all that he could be ready to skate. Yuzuru had considered going, sharing the team event with Shoma, being able to share whatever success they had or comfort if it didn’t go so well. He pictured arriving at the Olympic village, seeing Shoma there and having more time before the singles competition began. Though it wasn’t terrible to have Shoma taking the edge off here and there. If Yuzuru didn’t have something else on his mind every now and again, he’d probably overshoot and end up unable to concentrate but trying desperately to force it. 

“I get it,” Shoma said. Of course he did. It was the same reason he would miss the opening ceremony. Training time before a competition is precious. “It makes sense you’ll need more time.”

Yuzuru hesitated, but he was honest about the situation. Or, at least, he said something. After months of avoiding talking about how he was doing, Yuzuru told Shoma enough to explain without revealing anything that cause too much concern. He told Shoma about his progress in training, but not that he’s stuck on the double Axel. He told Shoma about the training he had been doing and the small victories he had along the way but didn’t talk about the failures that came so frequently. He told Shoma about the ways he had been working on his mind — the regular meetings with Tracy, the progress diary, the conscious effort to mentally rebuff every doubt or fear, but he didn’t talk about the depression that had lapped at his feet early on. He didn’t tell Shoma about the times he broke down into tears in his bedroom, in the shower, in his sleep, in the locker room… He didn’t tell Shoma about how the injury lingered, or the fear that he could be forced to retire when he decided he definitely didn’t want to. He didn’t tell Shoma about the painkillers.   
  


Shoma listened carefully. He was encouraging, let Yuzuru speak, but didn’t let Yuzuru’s doubts go uncontested.

“All the training you did in the summer still happened,” he told Yuzuru, “that training wasn’t wasted. It’ll still help you.”

Yuzuru almost laughed. It was completely the sort of thing he expected Shoma to say, seeing how much he believed that no time on the ice was a waste of time. But it meant a lot to Yuzuru to hear it because Shoma said it with complete sincerity. When Brian said things like that, he was a teacher giving assurance. It meant a lot more when the words came from someone Yuzuru knew loved him and wanted, more than anything else, to see him happy.

“You’ve got three weeks.” Shoma grinned, clearly mimicking Yuzuru from earlier.

Yuzuru baulked. Having the time he had laid like that was scary. “It’s not a lot of time.”

Shoma’s expression melted, softer. His grin receding into the gentlest of smiles. It made Yuzuru ache to look at him. He wanted nothing more than to curl up close and kiss him softly. 

“It’s enough,” Shoma said simply. “For you, it’s enough.” 

Yuzuru returned his smile, mentality repeating those words over and over until the flare of doubt was smothered.   
  


***   
  


Yuzuru huffed, shaking his head as he skated away from his latest failed 2A attempt and back towards Ghislain. Ghislain was pulling his ‘oh well’ face, with his mouth pulled into a straight line creating dimples on either side, and his eyebrows raised comically. Yuzuru scowled. He wanted to move on. He needed to move on. 

_It’s enough_ , Yuzuru thought, like a mantra. _The time I have is enough_.

“I want you to try the triple,” Ghislain said when Yuzuru came to a stop in front of him. Yuzuru wasn’t exactly opposed to this idea after days of being stuck on the stupid double, but he was surprised Ghislain had offered it so soon.

“The double has never really been your jump,” Ghislain explained. “We don’t really use it. The triple is more comfortable for you.”

It was nothing Yuzuru didn’t already know. This was the image Yuzuru had in mind was he skated away; gaining speed, lining up his body, arms hanging loose behind him as he readied himself and used little more than the power of his own body and the momentum he had to get up into the air. 

It maybe wasn't the most beautiful triple axel he had ever jumped, but it was rotated and landed on one blade. No roughness in the landing or quiver of pain in his right ankle could take away the sweetness of succeeding on the first try after attempt after attempt of the double that always ended in some kind of failure.

He did it. Just like that. One of the most important, most valuable jumps in his program. Relief and pure happiness came over him in a wave. Yuzuru drifted back towards Ghislain and threw his head back to laugh, loud, unrestrained. The light feeling that bubbled inside of him might not last long, but it meant everything to feel it right then. Ghislain was chuckling while he clapped his hands.

“I think we can get you on quads soon. A couple of days.”   
  


***   
  


Things fell into place after that. All the tiny steps Yuzuru had taken up to this stage started to accumulate. It was as if he could look behind him and see those footsteps in the sand miles and miles behind him. His sense of progress grew stronger day by day. Yuzuru felt sharper and more focused, determined. 

Every day they got closer to the deadline, Yuzuru got a little closer to his goal of being not only fit to compete, but at a stage where he could win. It would be hard, but it wasn’t impossible. Everything he wanted was within view.

“No one has beaten your scores from 2015,” Brian said with a shrug. “That kid with five quads in his free, he’s not touched the scores you can get with just a toe and a sal. We’ll focus on getting them strong and stable. We won’t need anything else.”

Yuzuru agreed to prioritise a layout without the loop, but Brian decided to allow the loop be a possibility if it was absolutely necessary. It was natural there would be questions and speculation about layout even before Yuzuru got to Korea. The plan was to be vague. What he did was unlikely to influence most of his competitors, but Yuzuru wasn’t so sure about Nathan. He was a nice kid, but his coach was ambitious and cunning. There was a game to be played off the ice with him.   
  


“I’ll need to be perfect,” Yuzuru said in a hushed voice. That didn’t really scare him. He would have aimed for that regardless.

“No,” Brian corrected lightly with a shake of his head. “You’ll need to be at your best. Or at least the best we can get you right now.” Yuzuru’s lips twitched in humour, but Brian continued. “Your quality outscores anyone else’s quantity.”

Yuzuru liked when Brian spoke like that; to the point as if stating facts. His faith was so strong he left no room for Yuzuru to question or doubt. He had no choice to believe it too.   
  


He knew what his strengths were. He knew what his rival’s weaknesses were. He knew where the opportunities to win really lay. At the start of the season he had aimed to have his base value up as one of the highest on the field, close with Shoma’s and Boyang’s and Nathan’s, so any advantage they had was dimmed. He wanted to win by a landslide, with no margin for argument. The technical difficulty of his peers, but with a quality they didn’t have, a difficulty in the choreography they lacked, a flair for performance they hadn’t yet grasped. He couldn’t do that now, but there were still open doors where he could slip through and win decisively. His back was against the wall, but he didn’t really mind that so much. 

There were still moments of weakness, when Yuzuru felt a flicker of fear. But he had already been practising chasing those thoughts away. When he couldn’t, though, Javier did.

He had caught Yuzuru after practice, in the observation room overlooking the rink as it was resurfaced for the next group. From there he could see the wall where the names of Olympic medalists and World Champions were displayed. 

He stared at the empty space under where his name bore the victory of his gold medal in Sochi. He would always have complicated feelings about that Olympic victory. He was proud that he had won, and he believed he deserved to win, but the mistakes in the free skate marred that medal. He hadn’t realised his potential at Sochi. He hadn’t skated the best that he could. It was difficult to not regret that.

Javier had come up behind him, carefully slipped his hands over Yuzuru’s shoulders to let him know he was there. 

“You’ll be ready,” Javier told him lowly in his ear, rubbing and squeezing Yuzuru’s shoulders and the base of his neck in a gentle, soothing massage. It was so light Yuzuru wasn’t sure Javier was completely aware he was even doing it, or if his hands were acting of their own accord.    
  


Yuzuru turned his head to look back at Javier, away from the wall he had been staring at. “I need to have quads and be able to skate full program in two weeks.”

“You can do that.” Javier smiled, and his hands moved away from Yuzuru’s shoulders, shifting, so he was stood at Yuzuru’s side. “You’ve done it before.”

“Yeah—” Yuzuru gave a determined nod “—I will do it.”  It helped to say these things out loud. He was working on that more; smothering the negative voices and manifesting the positive voices, make them more real than any doubts. All the well-wishes from friends and family and fans, all the things his trainers and coaches said to him along the way, they would all help him. But he needed to generate his own faith too. His own strength. “I will fight for gold.”

Javier chuckled and nodded. “We both just have to focus on doing the best we can.”

Yuzuru looked back out towards the wall of achievements. He wanted his name up there again, but he wanted Javier’s name up there too. Javier’s dream was to get an Olympic medal for Spain. It would be nice for them to achieve those dreams together. Even if Yuzuru ended up in second place.   
  


Javier laughed when Yuzuru said that. “You’re such a liar!”

“I would be happy for you!”

“I know you would.” Javier wrapped his arm around Yuzuru’s waist, pulling him into a loose one-arms hug. “But you hate losing. You’d be mad for a million years.”

Yuzuru pouted, but he couldn’t argue. “Don’t make it easy for me.”

“Never,” Javier promised. He laughed again, fingers finding the most sensitive spot of Yuzuru’s waist and tickling to make Yuzuru shriek. 

The days passed. Training continued. For so long it felt like progress was coming at a snail's pace, now it was like a sprint. The priority was getting the jumps and combinations that would go into his layouts stable, reliable. Makes the steps refined and sure, the spins tight and controlled. 

“Your sal is looking good. Better,” Javier panted in the middle of practice while the paused for breath and a mouthful of water. They didn’t always train together, they couldn’t, the environment was too high-pressure and intense for them to share every session. 

Yuzuru wiped the sweat off his forehead and grinned. “I spent years looking at the best.”

Javier snorted, jostling Yuzuru with his shoulder before skating away.  


 

Before long, it was the last training session before Brian and Lee left for Korea with Gabby and Junhwan. There was a moment for everyone to send them off and wish them luck. Javier ruffled Junhwan’s hair with a grin and hugged Gabby tight. 

Yuzuru approached Junhwan less boisterously, shuffling beside him and leaning on his side instead. Junhwan laughed and shrugged him off. He had grown, taller than both Yuzuru and Javier now. His growth spurt had caused him problems and wasn’t completely over, but he had settled at the right time it seemed. He had his form back for his national competition, enough to get the Olympics spot, and would have it back now to perform in his home country while the world watched. Yuzuru felt a kinship with Junhwan. He knew what it was like to be young with the pressure of a nation on your shoulders and to have cameras all around you since childhood. Their situations were not the same — Junhwan was a talent in a pool that was far shallower than Japan’s — but there were enough similarities for it to be easy to relate to each other. 

“Try to enjoy every moment,” Yuzuru urged him. Attending the Olympics was something few had the chance to repeat, attending the Olympics hosted by your home nation was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. When Yuzuru thought back to Sochi, he remembered the practice sessions when Plushenko shared the ice, and he couldn’t help getting flustered, or the feeling when he performed for the first time, or when he finished his short program and the scores came in. He remembered the feeling when he realised he had won, when he got the medal. Junhwan wouldn’t get a medal, but he could still great memories that would last a lifetime.

Junhwan smiled sweetly. “I will.”

Yuzuru lifted himself up on his tiptoes, getting his arms around Junhwan’s shoulders. “See you next week. Good luck,” he whispered, hugging Junhwan tighter and patting his back. “You’ll do great.”

The next week would be entirely focused on run-throughs of their programs. Yuzuru was almost where he needed to be stamina wise, but not quite. Still, when he stuck the final pose of his short program and heard the bell ring, announcing a clean run-through. Yuzuru felt a surge of hope, of strength and confidence. His condition might not hold out for the long-term, but he was going to get through this one competition. 

He would hear that bell often as the week wore on.

 

***   
  


Shoma arrived in Korea on Tuesday, letting Yuzuru know he got there safe with a cute photo from the car as he travelled from the airport to Gangneung. Yuzuru smiled at the picture; Shoma’s hair in its usual disarray, but now it had little streaks of orange running through it, his thick-rimmed glasses taking up half of his face and his eyes looking sleepy behind them. Yuzuru lay in bed, staring, imagining arriving there together. They could have shared the car ride to Gangneung, holding hands while Shoma dozed on Yuzuru’s shoulder. Or they could have met at the Olympic village. Maybe they still would, maybe Shoma could greet Yuzuru as he arrived, help him get his cases into his apartment and watch him unpack. Yuzuru let his mind wander, thinking about that first moment they’d see each other. Hugging Shoma, kissing him hello after not being able to for so long. During practices and through the actual competition they probably would give each other space, but it would be a comfort to know that Shoma was there. Yuzuru thought about the possibility of standing on the podium and having Shoma beside him, being able to celebrate together. 

Shoma called the next day, sometime in the evening, after having some time to settle. Yuzuru was up early, going through his morning routine to keep his ankle about as stable as it could be before he was due to go to training. Shoma was on his bed, panning around the room to show Yuzuru what it was like.   
  


“I’m sharing with Keiji and Ryuichi but my mom’s hotel is pretty close, and they’re letting her use the kitchen to make food for me so I can kind of bounce between the two,” Shoma explained once he came back into view.

“What’s wrong with the food there?”

“My mom’s is better,” Shoma replied with a cheeky grin. Yuzuru snorted.  “And if I have a lot of things the same as usual I’m less likely to get super stressed? I’m just controlling as many factors as I can. I’ll probably stay with my mom for the singles competition.”

Yuzuru hummed. “Smart.”

He does the same thing.  That was why a lot of the meals he ate during competitions stayed the same, why he took a roll-out mattress with him, why he cleaned and arranged hotel rooms to his pleasing before competitions and why he had so many trinkets and routines and rituals. Controlling the environment, controlling what comes into contact with your body, could do a lot in reducing stress and nerves.   


“Do you know if you’re sharing with anyone?”

“I think I’m rooming with Ghislain.” Yuzuru wouldn’t have minded sharing an apartment with Chris or anyone else, but he wasn’t exactly a great roommate to have during competition. He would likely have Brian and Tracy and Kikuchi drifting in and out of his room at will as well to deal with his injury and help him from getting too anxious or distracted. Yuzuru shrugged his shoulders. “I’m better off just sharing with a coach.”

Shoma hummed. “Do you think you’ll watch the team stuff?”

“I’ll try,” Yuzuru promised. The time difference wasn’t ideal, though the early start times for the events did make it possible. But his training for the next few days would be intense, particularly while he was still trying to get the quad loop as a viable back-up. “I can probably watch you, but I’ll be getting packed and stuff.”

“Are you excited?” Shoma bit his lip, grinning, eyes shining at the reminder that within days, Yuzuru would be in Korea and for the first time in over six months, they would be in the same country. The same city. 

Yuzuru’s stomach flipped. He was trying to strictly focus on the skating, on the competition, but it was hard to. Yuzuru nodded. “Yeah. I can’t wait to see you.” 

It was astonishing how quickly Shoma’s energy could shift with the slightest change of his expression, from beaming to achingly tender. “I’ve really missed you.” 

“I missed you too,” Yuzuru uttered on a breath. It felt right to say it quietly. 

That wasn't the reason why he was going to Korea. He was going to compete. That was the main thing. Everything else was a bonus. But Shoma was so close to the core of why Yuzuru was so energised and ready to go. Seeing Shoma was so tightly linked to going to compete, it was impossible to untangle them. After throwing away every distraction, choosing to hang every hope, stake his existence and invest all of his happiness into getting to this Olympics, Yuzuru was glad that he had held onto Shoma. Not as a distraction, but as a comfort. Not as a source of motivation, but a contributor. Yuzuru wasn’t sure what would come after Pyeongchang, but he knew it wouldn’t be easy, but Shoma would be there for him through it. Yuzuru was glad they could enjoy something together first.

Most people wanted to know if he was nervous, worried, stressed. He was all of those things in some measure. But there were so many positive feelings weaved through each and every thought. Yuzuru buzzed with the thrill and relief, the energy that bounced around his stomach and sang in his veins at the idea of stepping foot on Olympic ice this time next week, being able to look over at practice and seeing Shoma there beside him. He took stock of that feeling and held onto it.    
  


***   
  


It wasn’t only Shoma who took it upon himself to give Yuzuru some insight on the what to expect in Korea. Keiji sent him photos of the food and cafeteria, Chris told him what the gym area was like and how busy it got at certain times, while Kana and Satoko sent him photos of areas of the venue, the practice rink, the medical rooms, the warm-up area and mixed zones. After his first practice, Shoma gave details about the ice condition; the hardness, the quality of maintenance. Satoko gave more nuanced observations, like how the temperature of the air and the density of the ice feels on her joints when she’s performing steps or landing a jump and how good the access to physiotherapy resources were before and after practices. Even if Yuzuru wasn’t there yet, he was part of the team. They cared for him.

**Shoma** : _ It’s so early. _

Fondness blossomed in Yuzuru’s chest at the message. He could practically hear Shoma’s voice in it, raspy and with an edge of a whine. He could imagine Shoma sleep-soft, dragging his feet to get off the bus to the venue and crashing on his warm-up mat once he got inside. He wouldn’t be the only one finding the schedule hard.   


**Shoma** :  __ There are NO coffee places near the venue.  
_ The 7/11 near here also has no red bull.  
_ __ I’m going to die.

Shoma punctuated his melodramatic with a photo of himself, predictably, lying in his mat, forlornly clutching a water bottle. Yuzuru laughed.   
  


He tapped out a quick message to Junhwan. It was probably a bad idea, Brian would not be happy that Yuzuru was distracting him before a competition, but it was early, and Junhwan was good at focusing himself.  _ ‘Hey, you’re getting ready for practice right?’ _

Junhwan replied reasonably quickly, so Yuzuru explained the situation.  _ ‘Do you know where someone can get caffeine? He says the places in the venue aren’t open yet.’ _

Junhwan seemed somewhat amused and responded with a quick ‘I’ll work on it’ which, apparently, meant pulling his best charm offensive on the girls volunteering in the venue. Yuzuru got confirmation after only a few minutes assuring ‘ _ someone should be giving Shoma a cup of coffee and a supply of Hot6 soon ^^ _ ’.

Sure enough, Yuzuru got another photo from Shoma, this one showed him lovingly cradling a cup of coffee with his mat surrounded with cans of energy drink.   
  


**Shoma** :  __ Thank you.  
__ I owe Junhwan my life.  
  


***   
  


Yuzuru did end up watching the short program, while he packed away training clothes into a suitcase with his mom, mindful of the time, knowing he would have to sleep soon. Junhwan did well, which made Yuzuru feel an incredible surge of pride. The second group did poorly though, one person wiping out after the other. Shoma had a fall but ended up doing the best out of the bunch. 103.25. Shoma smiled as he received his score, laughing. Yuzuru wished he could have been there, but he was also glad that Shoma could have that moment entirely to himself.

 

***

 

Yuzuru’s flight to Korea was at noon, due to land early evening in Korea. Over thirteen hours in the air. At least it was direct. There was less chance of boots and costumes being lost that way. 

Yuzuru adjusted his chair for the third time in an hour and glanced around the cabin. He didn’t get nervous on flights anymore, not like he used to, but it was still his least favourite part about competing. The air in the aeroplane was always stuffy, the chairs all crammed together and knowing there was no way out made him feel a bit claustrophobic, and he hated having to sit still for so long but always felt like a nuisance when he got up to move. That was somewhat alleviated by not flying economy. He was used to flying with his mother, and this time she had taken a separate flight to avoid the inevitable sea of media that would be waiting for Yuzuru when he landed. Tracy being there helped, and Ghislain, even though he was just snoozing a few seats over. Yuzuru had even managed to badger Javier into upgrading his ticket so they were all flying together, despite Javier complaining that he couldn’t afford it but simultaneously not accepting Yuzuru’s offer to pay for the difference.    
  


Yuzuru looked out of the window. There wasn’t much to really look at; an expanse of ocean visible through the occasional break of white, fluffy cloud. 

“Hey.” Yuzuru snapped out of his haze, turning away from the window. Javier sat back down, returned from his attempt to shake off his restlessness. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just bored.” 

“Regretting your video game ban?” Javier teased.

“So much,” All of his games were still stashed safely under his bed. Yuzuru was satisfied with the effect that particular exercise in self-discipline had on him, so wasn’t in a rush to break his self-imposed ban, but it was tempting to make an exception when they were stuck travelling for thirteen hours. Yuzuru pouted, grumbling. “No video games. No movies.”

“Sucks for you,” Javier said brightly. “Did you bring something to read?”

“Yeah.” Yuzuru had brought a few things to occupy himself with. But they weren’t as appealing as mindless entertainment. “I will read and watch my programs and sleep.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Javier hummed, wiggling in his seat the get comfortable. “I’m going to play video games.”

“Right next to me?” Yuzuru stared at him. “That’s so mean.”

Javier just grinned and pulled his Nintendo out of his bag with a flourish. Yuzuru sulked and spent the next few hours reading one of his books, pointedly ignoring Javier’s grunts as he played his game. Until they both fell asleep.   
  


***   
  


Yuzuru looked in the mirror and narrowed his eyes. The sleeves on his jacket were too short, but he didn’t really care. He ran his fingers through his hair to make it lie flat and made sure his face didn’t look weird. He took a few deep breaths to steady his nerves and headed out of the restroom where he had changed. The garment bag his uniform had flown in had been folded up and put in the same bag as the clothes he had flown in, which at least meant Ghislain and Tracy had one less thing to carry around. 

Javier took one look at him and burst out laughing. “You look like a school kid.”

“Shut up,” Yuzuru said sullenly, glowing playfully at him, putting his bag on the trolly with the rest of his luggage and starting to push it towards the exit. He was glad Javier was here to tease him, unable to hold back a smile at Javier’s guffawing behind him. Until he exited the doors and stepped into the arrivals lobby of the airport, he was Yuzu. His regular everyday self. He wanted to hold onto them as long as possible. He knew he’d have to let it go, start to prepare the face the media needed to see before reaching the gate.    
  


“Okay. The JOC said they arranged some security for you. They should be near the exit...” Tracy trailed off as they turned the corner, spotting six burly looking men dressed in black vests. “Ah—”

Yuzuru was flustered. He had security before, but only two, not six. And they were apparently for him because they stood with a representative who had spotted them and was waving them over. He looked at Tracy owlishly. “How much media do they expect?”

“I’m guessing a lot,” Ghislain said merrily. Javier snorted.

Tracy sighed, “They expect quite a few fans to show up too.” 

“Are they expecting the US fed to make an attempt on his life as well?”

“Javi.” Tracy shot him a withering look.

“Or is Raf going to throw beads on the floor, Showgirls style—”

“ _ Javi _ .”

“Are you coming out with me?” Yuzuru asked although he was pretty sure he knew the answer.

Javier shook his head. “No way. I’m going out the other door and watching your media circus from afar.”

Yuzuru sniffed. “Mean.”

Ghislain took over Yuzuru’s trolly, leaving him free to smile and greet the representative and the security guards who would be walking with them. Junhwan and taught him a few polite phrases before he had left. It never hurt to try to make a good impression, even if his pronunciation was stilted and likely strange. Yuzuru hoped anyone who heard him would find that endearing.

“When you exit we will walk to the left towards the media wall,” the representative instructed, after exchanging the usual pleasantries and small talk “The guards will make sure reporters keep their distance.”

Yuzuru nodded, tugging at the sleeves of his blazer absently. They were out of view for now, but every time the doors opened, Yuzuru could see a glimpse of the crowd waiting outside. After four months of avoiding all media and giving very few updates on his condition, it was daunting to face it all again.

“Nervous?” Javier asked, leaning in close to keep his voice quiet. “You’ve not dealt with media at all for a while.”

“Really nervous.” Yuzuru gave a wobbly smile. “But it’s kind of fun? And this was the image I wanted.”

Not giving the media any updates as he recovered meant they were unable to craft a stable narrative while he was away. They couldn’t form a predetermined image of him as he returned to competition. They couldn’t set him up as a favourite to win, they couldn't tout him as the one to beat, but they also couldn’t predict that he would fail and lose. He was a mystery, a wild card, and he held all the power to craft the narrative he wanted. So his message would be clear; he came to win. He wanted to win. More than any other athlete in the Games. He was capable, and he would skate the best he possibly could.

“Ah, yes,” Javier said, his tone playful again. “The returning Ice Prince.”

“Shut up.” Yuzuru elbowed him lightly in the ribs but smirked. Admittedly, that was the kind of image he wanted to present. The kids had their time while he was away, but now it was his time to conquer. 

The representative cleared his throat and politely asked Yuzuru if he was ready. Tracy gestured at Javier to start heading down the next exit. 

Javier patted Yuzuru’s shoulder. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Yuzuru nodded, turned to the representative and included his head towards the exit.  
He walked out in a confident stride, flanked by security guards, with a smile on his face.

 

***

  
Yuzuru had forgotten how draining it could be the deal with media; being stared down by multiple cameras and pretend he wasn’t nervous, speak and make sure he was respectful and humble but also confident. It was an odd balance of being himself, but his best self. His polished self. But not too polished. He still had to be human. Never too obviously rehearsed. 

Despite his best efforts to sleep on the plane so he was landing with his body on something close to the right schedule, he still needed to adjust to the timezone. Which was to be expected. Luckily once he got to Gangneung, he was free to sleep from the moment they arrived in the apartment through to late the next morning. 

He unpacked, finding a home for everything for his side of the room with Ghislain doing the same, tidying his side of the room for the sake of Yuzuru’s peace of mind. Yuzuru took a photo of his perfectly organised wardrobe and the rolling case he brought to practices with all his warm-up equipment and boots inside and sent it to Shoma to show he was settled. Shoma had seemed amused. ‘ _I’m just living out of my suitcase,_ ’ he sent in response, ‘ _There’s no point in unpacking when I’m moving around between events._ ’

Shoma was spending a few days in Seoul, away from the strict training schedule that was natural when it wasn’t only the figure skating disciplines sharing the ice, but the speed skaters too.

‘ _JSF booked out a rink for a few days so we can do full sessions,_ ’ Shoma explained. ‘ _And there’s no media :)_ ’  
  


Yuzuru felt a twinge of sadness that they wouldn’t see each other before the official practice. They wouldn’t see each other at all for a few more days. Yuzuru supposed that would allow him to concentrate more on his first few practice sessions and the conditioning he needed to do for his body to adjust to the timezone. But he could have done all of that with Shoma around. 

Yuzuru couldn’t fault Shoma either. It likely wasn’t even Shoma’s decision. Dodging the media for a few days was a good idea, especially when there would probably be a sharp influx at the evening practice Yuzuru was due to attend. It was better for Shoma to avoid that. Yuzuru couldn’t, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to right now. Media attention wasn’t something he had a huge problem with while he was in control. But that control was rare.    
  


***   
  


Brian dropped by a few hours before practice was due to start, likely making the rounds to check in on everyone before he had to head to the venue. It wasn’t essential, but it was important to Brian that he was present and involved with everyone. He could call or get the information he needed through Ghislain or Tracy but that never felt like enough for him.

“How are you feeling?” Brian asked, sat at the little table in the ‘kitchen’ of the apartment. It wasn’t functional, merely fitted for whoever would buy the place after the games were over. Ghislain already had papers spread out over half of it — the practice and competition schedule, notes on Yuzuru’s current condition, other things Yuzuru was sure were useful but didn’t particularly need to concern himself with. Yuzuru sat across from Brian with a half-empty bottle of juice. He toyed with the cap and shrugged his shoulders at the question.

“Still tired from the flight. But okay.”

Brian nodded, expecting that kind of answer. “We won’t do a full practice today. Just a short burst to help get you adjusted.”

Yuzuru knew this, he had already talked to Ghislain about it. It would be funny, really, to have people eagerly waiting for the first glimpses of him on the ice in public for four months, only to only get fifteen minutes and some single jumps to check form. 

“I heard you landed the loop.” Brian leaned forwards, glancing down at some of Ghislain’s notes. “Do you want to risk it?”

“Not in short.” Yuzuru grimaced. There was no point in taking risks in the short. The layout he used at Autumn classic had given his a record high score with some room for improvement. If he skated well enough, and the judges were more on the generous side for the sake of the Olympics, he could outscore that. “Nathan did so bad in team, Raf won’t make changes to short, so I don’t need it there,” Yuzuru stated. The short program had less wiggle room for risks, there wasn’t much anyone could do with their layouts for the short that would make much difference anyway. Nathan wasn’t the only skater Yuzuru had to consider, but Javier’s plan was no mystery to him, and neither was Shoma’s. Boyang didn’t present much of a threat for Gold. Mikhail had the potential, but not the momentum. Out of all of them, Nathan was the hardest to predict, and he had the ambitious coach who would definitely be watching Yuzuru. “Can decide free later. Don’t want Raf to know what my plan is.”

Brian gave Yuzuru an assessing look, smiling. “You don't want your competitors knowing too much about your condition.”

Yuzuru nodded. If he gave an impression of strength and confidence going into the competition, it could make some rivals unnerved. If he let that illusion slip at all, for even a second, it could fall apart. “Maybe I will ask Kikuchi to tape my ankle here before we go to practice.”

“Okay.” Brian chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “Have you eaten yet?” Yuzuru shook his head. He had meant to get a light lunch but hadn’t gotten around to it yet. There was still time, without it getting so late that he’d feel sluggish and heavy at practice. Brian gestured with his hands for Yuzuru to go. “Get something to eat, rest a bit. I’ll see you for practice in the evening.”   
  


***   
  


Yuzuru had missed the atmosphere of competition, but nothing could compare to the atmosphere of the Olympics. Even at an evening practice days before the singles event would start, and the excitement was still growing, it was incomparable. World's was the crowning jewel of a season, but Olympics was the culmination of four years. For many athletes, it could be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. For those who, like Yuzuru, were coming to Korea as a second Olympics, or like Javier had this as their third, there was the very likely chance it would be their last. That fact hung in the air, but the tension wasn’t bad. It was more like an energy that had everyone wanting to do their very best and enjoy every second. 

At least, that’s how Yuzuru felt when he walked into the warm-up area, set up his mat and started to loosen up. He hadn’t been significantly stir-crazy in Toronto, but seeing friends again after months of being cooped up made feel Yuzuru feel lighter. Misha gave a tight hug when they said hello, while Keiji was more casual, but rubbed between his shoulder blades in affection. Others settle for quick pats and waves and nods of their heads. 

“A cake?” Misha asked, bemused, picking up Yuzuru’s tissue box.

“Strawberry shortcake,” Yuzuru corrected. Keiji snorted. “I can’t have Pooh. But look!” Yuzuru took the box back and pulled up the side of the cover, revealing the box beneath which was decorated with his signature character. “Pooh is hidden.”

“Sneaky.” Misha laughed.

“You’re such a dork,” Keiji said, shaking his head. Yuzuru made a face at him. The box and the cover had been a gift from a fan. The cake had once had little miniature versions of the bear and his friends on it, but his mom chopped off the little bear and piglet with her scissors to follow the rules of the Olympics. Not that it would matter much. Fans would still throw hundreds of the contraband bear onto the ice after his performances.

The first practice was short, as planned. Enough to chase away the lethargy that lingered from flying but undoubtedly a disappointment for the fifty cameramen and reporters that had come to observe. Yuzuru didn’t care much about that, though. His form for his jumps was good, he had landed a decent triple axel at the end of his fifteen minutes. The ice felt right beneath his blades, and his ankle wasn’t presenting a problem outside the dulled pain that barely bled through the wall of painkillers holding it back. 

Yuzuru would have time to savour the ice later.

 

He did the next day. The practice was in the morning, which was usually not the greatest time for Yuzuru, but he was well-rested and feeling much better than the day before. They had prepared for this, about as much as possible, by pushing training times earlier in the weeks before heading out to Korea. 

Yuzuru put both hands flat on the ice and felt it beneath his fingers as he glided forwards, eyes closing, focusing on the numbing cold. The practice was a good one. Not entirely perfect but everything coming together by the end. Brian had been pleased with both Yuzuru and Javier.

“You’re making me look very good,” he joked. Yuzuru turned to Javier, grinning, and gave him a high five. Brian had already smugly pointed out that it wasn’t only the media watching Yuzuru, but every coach at the boards too. Their eyes strayed away from their own students in favour of watching Yuzuru skate, perhaps looking for weakness but coming up empty. That was the kind of thing Brian would never point out to Javier, knowing it would be enough to make him incredibly nervous. Yuzuru, however, enjoyed the ego-boost. He wasn’t at his best, but he could still show off where he was currently at. His current capability was good enough. Being watched meant having an audience he could play to.  
  


“It’s good to see you back,” Stéphane had told him, once practice was done, and Yuzuru had ducked through the curtains to head to the locker room so he could change out of the training gear that was clinging to sweaty skin. “You’re looking great out there. I knew you could come back.” He patted Yuzuru’s shoulder, more brotherly than anything else despite the gap in their age. Though, really, Stephane was only a few years older than Javier and still had youth and good-looks. Yuzuru had never had the pleasure of competing alongside him, only skating alongside him at shows in the summer. He had retired before Yuzuru had moved up to seniors.

The novelty of having the respect of a skater Yuzuru had watched and admired as a kid never wore out. He beamed at Stephane, thanking him before slipping away.

It was a shame he couldn't slow down, talk to Stéphane a bit more, say more than just the smallest pleasantry to Deniss and Nathan and Mikhail. Yuzuru had to be quick getting himself together after practice for a media conference.  He didn’t really have time to stop and chat with people, even though he wanted to. 

He wasn't here to reconnect with friends or have fun. He was here to skate and win. Everything else was a bonus. Facing the media was part of the process, one of the responsibilities many of the athletes had to face. Yuzuru grabbed his bag and sat to unlace his boots. He had to change, not only because he was sweaty and gross from practice, but also because looser clothing would make it easier to hide the ice they would have to strap to his ankle and hide beneath the desk while he spoke to reporters. The projection of strength and readiness wasn’t for the benefit of the media, but for himself too. The more he acted confident, the more he believedit. If the facade were to fall apart, so would he. The nervousness that he was keeping at manageable levels would spiral, the doubts would flood in.   
  


“Hey.” Keiji’s voice had Yuzuru look up from where he was rearranging his bag to pack away his dirty clothes. Keiji smiled.  “I have a gift for you.”

Yuzuru barely had time to blink before Keiji dropped something in his lap.

“Keiji!” Yuzuru gasped, mortified, at seeing what it was and grabbed the box of condoms and a bottle of lube Keiji had thrown at him, hastily tossing them into his bag. His eyes scanned the room, hoping no one - no coaches, definitely no media, had seen. For once, no one was looking at him. Yuzuru looked back up at Keiji’s dumb, grinning face and hissed, “What the hell?”

“Stay safe,” Keiji said with a wink. “Don’t get pregnant.”

“Uh. Thanks.” Yuzuru grimaced.  “You know the whole Olympic village orgy thing isn’t...real, right?”

“Yeah, well, most people here aren’t dating the competition,” Keiji deadpanned. Yuzuru looked around again. No one else in the room spoke Japanese, but Yuzuru would still rather they weren’t having this conversation out in the open. Keiji sat next to him and lowered his voice. “And you are  _ way  _ overdue.”

Yuzuru grunted. Keiji wasn't exactly wrong about that, but Yuzuru wasn't going to admit that. Now wasn’t exactly the time to be thinking about that sort of thing, anyway.

“I’m going to be late for my press thing.”

Yuzuru supposed it was nice that Keiji gave his blessing in his own, odd way. He smiled as he headed out. 

 

***

 

Yuzuru wasn’t sure what he expected, seeing Shoma again at practice. He assumed the hundreds of times, the hours upon hours of time they had spent talking to each other of video calls would make seeing each other in the flesh...no big deal. Nice but nothing huge. He thought it would be like seeing any of his other friends again, but a bit sweeter. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal. He had missed Shoma, regretted that circumstances had torn away opportunities to spend time together, but they had frequently talked, even when Yuzuru had wanted to shut off and be alone. 

When he walked into the warm-up area and saw Shoma in the corner, laying out his mat and his typical collection of energy drinks, coffee and a single bottle of water, he realised it wasn't quite the same as seeing any other friend after all. 

“Okay, let’s set up there—” Brian started, gesturing at an empty spot far enough away from the door that Yuzuru would have a decent amount of privacy and a fair amount of space to go through his usual routine. There was even enough room for Javier to settle nearby, but not so close they would distract each other. Yuzuru nodded absently, still looking at where Shoma was stretching up with a full-body yawn.

“I’m going to say hello first.”

“Uh, Okay.” 

Yuzuru didn’t pay attention to Tracy quietly chiding Brian to let Yuzuru go and say hello to his friends, or notice Javier snorting and heading off to claim his chosen spot. He drifted over towards Shoma automatically, letting everything else fall away in his periphery, focusing on Shoma. They promised to not distract each other, and they didn’t, and Yuzuru knew that he could compete against Shoma without it causing a conflict. But there was time, before practice, to let his focus stray. 

Shoma looked over, noticed him walking over and smiled. Yuzuru felt everything; his heart beating a little faster, his stomach flipping like an explosion of butterflies, his own smile blooming on his face, the tips of his fingers tingled.

Shoma turned to Mihoko, saying something that made her look confused and walk away just in time for Yuzuru to reach the edge of his mat. Yuzuru wanted to launch himself at him, wrap him up and hold him tight, kiss him. Mihoko brushing past had brought Yuzuru back to reality somewhat. There were other people all around them; skaters, coaches, media passing by to take their spots rinkside. They had gotten comfortable in their relationship alone, in their rooms, speaking one-to-one. They hadn’t had much chance to settle into what it meant for them to be together in public, what was comfortable for both of them. Yuzuru faltered. Shoma did too, his eyes flitting away from Yuzuru for a moment to assess who was around them.   
  


Yuzuru bit his lip, trying to remember how they had acted the last time they were together, out in the open. The last competitions they did together were Worlds and Team Trophy — so long ago. When they were still unsure of where they stood, and Yuzuru didn’t know what he wanted. They had given each other space at practices and during the competition and limited their tentative steps towards a relationship to when they were alone in hotels and empty locker rooms. The same could be said for the ice shows in the summer. They didn’t really touch much when they were around others, saving it for when they were alone. Maybe it would be strange if now, after not seeing each other for months, Yuzuru suddenly hugged Shoma. 

“Hi,” Yuzuru said breathlessly. It was regrettable that they weren’t alone.

“Y-Yuzu-k-kun,” Shoma stuttered, the suffix tacked on like an afterthought, like he wasn’t sure it was even the right one to use. Which made some sense, they had dropped using suffixes when talking to each other entirely for a while now. They had often stumbled using more polite titles for each other when talking to the media, but it would be even more awkward now

Shoma nodded his head in an awkward half-bow. His cheeks were pink. “Hello. It’s good to see you.”

Yuzuru giggled at Shoma’s stilted formalities. At least they were both equally unsure of how they were supposed to act.    
  


Nearby, Keiji sighed loudly, moving so he was stood directly in front of the two of them, backs to them, swinging out his arms to stretch. Javier apparently had a similar idea to Keiji, coming over and standing beside Keiji and shooting Yuzuru a look over his shoulder before starting to talk to Keiji, so it was less conspicuous. Both Yuzuru and Shoma started to laugh. They were making a wall, blocking anyone else’s view so Yuzuru and Shoma could have even a few seconds of privacy. 

 

Yuzuru took the opportunity, closed the gap between them and pulled Shoma into a hug. Happiness fluttered inside him, like sakura caught in a cyclone, at being able to hold Shoma and feel the way their bodies fit together. Shoma was slow to respond but brought his arms around Yuzuru’s waist, his hands flat against Yuzuru’s back, head inclined to gently nuzzle into Yuzuru’s cheek. 

“I forgot how short you are,” Yuzuru muttered into Shoma’s ear. “Or did you shrink?”

Shoma pinched Yuzuru’s sides with mirth, laughing at the undignified squeak Yuzuru made as a result. They drew back just enough for Yuzuru to look down at Shoma’s face, take in the way it glowed with happiness. He lifted a hand to Shoma’s cheek, feeling the heat rising there. He awed at how Shoma’s presence could at once make him feel both grounded and like he was floating at once.

“Yuzu…” Shoma warned, shaking his head. Yuzuru didn’t need the warning.  It was too much, Yuzuru knew it. He could already feel a little panic, just at the thought of someone seeing them, spoiling the peace and contentment of their reunion. Keiji and Javier might be trying to act as a human barrier, but it wasn’t completely effective. The way that they were stood was too close, too intimate, for being in public. A kiss was out of the question. Yuzuru pulled back, slipping out of Shoma’s hold, letting his hand drop to his side. He cleared his throat to let Keiji and Javier know they could stop pretending to talk and leave.    
  


Javier turned, offering a smile. Yuzuru wondered if it was odd for him, to not only be around Yuzuru and Shoma but to also step in to help them have a moment to hold each other. Even if they had let go, moved on and the struggles of months ago were behind them, Yuzuru wasn’t sure how he would feel if their places were reversed. He didn’t think he’d be comfortable around Javier and his girlfriend, or if he could help Javier have time with her. He would try, but even now it wouldn’t be easy. He mouthed ‘thank you’ before Javier turned to walk away.

 

Shoma sat down on his mat, picking up his coffee. Yuzuru joined him, stretching out his legs enough to feel tension in his calves. He rolled his neck before glancing at Shoma.

“How was Seoul?”

Shoma shrugged. “Nice. Lots of cafes.”

Yuzuru laughed. He suspected Shoma didn't do much in the way of sightseeing while he was in the capital, which was a shame. Junhwan had talked about the city, places he thought Yuzuru would like the see if he got the chance. It sounded like an interesting city with cool modern places and historical castles right beside them, busy shopping districts and parks with views overlooking it all. Gangneung had the coast and the sunrises over the sea, but Yuzuru wasn’t a fan of beaches and felt uneasy around expanses of water. 

“Are you back at the Olympic village?”

“I’m staying with my mom until the free skate is finished.”

“Oh.” Yuzuru licked his lips, a little embarrassed about what he was about to say. He didn't want to bring up what way it was, but even if trying to keep his head totally on the competition, he had hoped he could spend some time with Shoma for Valentine's day. “I just thought. Maybe we could hang out. After practice.”

Shoma nodded but was obviously thinking about it. Yuzuru added hastily,  “It’s okay if you can’t. I don’t want to mess you up before competition.”

“It won’t mess me up,” Shoma said, tone very polite. “I would like to hang out with you.”

Yuzuru leant in close, amused. “You know you don’t have to be so polite, yeah?”

Shoma was about to say something, but a nice pair of shoes appeared beside the mat.   
  


“Hello, Yuzuru-kun.”

Yuzuru looked up, Mihoko smiled down at him nicely. 

“Your coach wants you to go and warm up,” She told him, sounding cheerful. 

Yuzuru nodded, carefully hauling himself up off the floor. “Thank you Mihoko- _sensei_ ,” he said with a half-bow before turning back to Shoma. “Speak to you after practice?”

Shoma nodded. Yuzuru returned to where Brian was tapping his foot, waiting. 

Now, he could focus on skating.

  
  


***

 

The Olympic village was a sprawling campus of apartments, different blocks for different national teams and the media, gyms and health centres, a few communal areas to eat or relax and play games. The road nearby wasn’t too noisy, and everything was private enough that Yuzuru didn’t mind leisurely strolling through with Shoma on their way to the Japanese block. A breeze made the young conifers dotted around the complex sway. It was cold, but not entirely unpleasant, the sky was clear, and the air was fresh. 

“Have you been in there?” Shoma asked, gesturing towards the gaming hall in passing. The organisers had tried to give the athletes everything they could to feel comfortable and entertained. It wasn't perfect, but the accommodation was in far better condition than Sochi.

Yuzuru shook his head. “I banned myself from playing games until after the free skate.”

“Bummer,” Shoma said flatly with a grimace. “Anyway. It’s a temporary building, so it is freezing cold in there. If you do go, take a blanket with you.”

“You went in?”

“Yeah. It’s just an arcade type thing. It’s cool, but we gave up and went back to our apartment to game,” Shoma said, drawing his hands up into his sleeves. He turned his head to face Yuzuru better, smiling. “I’m trying to get the next rank in Vainglory.”

Yuzuru rolled his eyes. “You’re gonna retire to be a pro-gamer, aren’t you?”

Shoma shrugged. “I think I can skate and game at the same time.”

Yuzuru puffed out a laugh, arm brushing against Shoma’s as they walked. He wanted to reach down, grab Shoma’s hand and lace their fingers together while they walked but everything was too open. There were journalists and other athletes milling around. Besides, Shoma was keeping his hands firmly tucked inside his sleeves.

 

They passed the cafeteria set up for the Japanese athletes. Yuzuru considered going inside, but Shoma was sticking to his mom’s food, and Yuzuru had strict meal times he was determined to stick to, so he didn’t bother suggesting it. Being so close to their destination, it was inevitable that they would bump into someone.

“Shoma! You’re back!” Kaori beamed, coming to a sudden stop in front of them. She was small, elven with her young features. She may not have been who Yuzuru expected to be joining the Olympic team, but she was a pleasant surprise. “I thought you were staying in a hotel?”

“Uh, will be for a few days,” Shoma said, “I’m just hanging out with Yuzu-r-ru-kun.” 

Yuzuru resisted the urge to frown. Shoma referred to him again in a way that was awkward, like he only decided half-way-through speaking to not use a nickname and to add a suffix. Yuzuru opted to ignore it, not draw attention to it. He had some idea of what Shoma was doing. But he didn’t know if it was really necessary. Instead, he kept his attention on Kaori and her heavily-decorated lanyard.  “You’ve a got...a lot of pins.”

“I’ve nearly got all of them!” Kairi said excitedly. Her face lit up. Yuzuru smiled, she was terribly cute. “Are you going to collect some?”

Kaori watched them as Shoma shook his head and Yuzuru gave a half-hearted shrug. Her smile fell into a displeased grimace. “You’re so boring—”

“I might get a few,” Yuzuru said, mostly to placate her. He turned to Shoma. “Should we get some together?”

“There’s a few spots nearby for collecting them.” Kaori brightened again. “I can show you!”

“It’s okay,” Yuzuru said, shaking his head. “You should go and eat.” He assumed that was where she was heading. She didn’t correct him, just nodded. He patted her head fondly. Kaori was an adorable kid. “I might ask for help finding some of those prettier ones.”

Kaori giggled, pleased. “Okay. Have fun!”   
  


Yuzuru watched as she skipped away. Shoma gave him a look.

“Are you really going to drag me around badge hunting?”

“Nah. I can’t be bothered getting the app.”

Shoma snorted, opening the door to the apartment building and holding it so they could both slip inside. It had been relaxing to walk alongside Shoma, but Yuzuru’s ankle was beginning to ache fiercely. He needed to rest it.

“So,” Yuzuru started, leaning in while they waited for an elevator so he could speak in a hushed tone. “Is being polite with me at random going to be a thing now?”

“It’s not at random.”

Yuzuru had picked up on that. It was a change in how he spoke to and about Yuzuru in public. Specifically when other people were around within earshot. Yuzuru was reasonably sure he knew Shoma’s motive for regulating his speech around other people, but it didn’t hurt to ask for specifics. “Okay but...why?”

“When we’re in front of coaches and media and stuff I should be more respectful to you,” Shoma mumbled, looking up at the numbers counting down the elevators decent to them.

“While you were injured I realised how much you put up with and how hard it is to skate the way you do with the pressure and stress you have.” The doors opened, and they stepped inside. Shoma glanced at Yuzuru shyly. “You’re my senpai, you’re a really great athlete. I should be more polite when we’re around other people.”

Yuzuru pressed the button for his floor and frowned. “You’re a great athlete too.”

“It’s not the same.” Shoma leaned against the side of the elevator. The doors closed, and Yuzuru settled beside him. Shoma looked down at his feet. “Anyway. I guess I feel weird about...I don’t know. Being around people?” 

“We’re not out. We’re not ready to be. And that’s fine. You don’t like people speculating, and I don’t want that either.” Shoma lifted his head. “People might start wondering because of how familiar we are with each other. I shouldn’t talk to you in public the way I do in private.”

“I hate it though,” Yuzuru said softly. “I never expected it of you.”

He understood, and in a way he was thankful. Yuzuru had people speculating about his sexuality regardless, there wasn’t much he could really do about that. Talking about wanting marriage or wanting kids, pretending that there was a type of girl he likes or talking about female celebrities as if his interest in them was anything other than an appreciation of their skills... None of that did much to stop people from looking at him and saying, with a kind of acidity ‘too feminine’, hissing the word ‘gay’ as if it disgusted them. Like there was nothing more shameful. 

The most important thing was that Yuzuru didn’t see those comments, hear them, and absorb that feeling into himself. He had tried, and he knew that even with Javier being as confused and troubled as he was, he had tried to say the right things to help Yuzuru not feel that way about himself. The fear had always been there. That fear still remained, but it was diminished. Because Shoma’s attitude towards himself had been a revelation. Of course, Shoma didn’t want it to be public knowledge either, didn’t want people looking at him, wondering, making the kinds of spiteful comments that Yuzuru had thrown his way so often. Of course, he only told people he trusted. That was just self-preservation. That was sensible caution that would be best for both of them.

Shoma had encouraged Yuzuru to be more accepting of himself and at least tell his family, a few friends, but didn’t pressure him to open up more. Yuzuru knew that Shoma never would, either. He would always be mindful and willing to slow himself down to suit Yuzuru’s pace if he needed to. But throwing up a barrier whenever they were around other people didn’t seem like a good response to a problem that was yet to materialise.    
  


“We haven’t really had to talk about how we should act in public,” Shoma shrugged. “I guess I’ve been anxious about it.”

Yuzuru hummed, smiling. He had been pretty awkward too. Worried that a hug, a touch, would have everyone staring at them, wondering when really it wouldn't register as odd for anyone at all. Yuzuru hugged all of his friends, had always touched Shoma and played around with him. “Maybe we’re both overthinking it. There was nothing wrong with how we acted around each other before.”

“True.” Shoma laughed.  “But I should still be more careful in front of media.”

“If that makes you feel better.” There wasn’t much of a change to be made there either. Referring to each other and speaking more politely to the media was standard. They just slipped up sometimes. “But...you should talk to me freely the rest of the time.”

Shoma nodded. His hands were still drawn up into his sleeves, fingers clutching at the edges.

“Cold?”

Shoma nodded. Yuzuru moved in front of Shoma, putting his hands over Shoma’s cool ones, holding them to help them get warm.

“We’ll figure it out,” Yuzuru told him gently, thumbs stroking over Shoma’s knuckles. The elevator started to slow, before coming to a stop. “The whole being in public thing.” 

Shoma smiled. “Yeah.”

The doors opened, and they stepped out together.

 

***

 

“Oh, you’re back.” Ghislain looked up from the table as Yuzuru stepped through the door, papers and his iPad in front of him. “I wondered where you went.”

Yuzuru toed off his shoes where the floor was tile before taking the slight step up onto the wood. He gestured back towards where Shoma was quietly closing the door behind him, doing the same, only he left his shoes where he kicked them off, while Yuzuru tucked his away in the shoe closet. “We were just walking around.” 

Ghislain gave a small nod, “Hi, Shoma.”

Shoma shuffled his feet, finding a warm patch where the underfloor heating was at work. “Hi.”

“We’re going to hang out in the bedroom, okay?”

“Alright.” Ghislain nodded, already turning back to whatever it was he had been doing before Yuzuru came through the door. “Do you need to ice?”

“Mm. I’ll do later,” Yuzuru said dismissively, crossing the room with Shoma following behind. It was essential to keep up good care for the persisting injury while he was competing, but the painkillers hadn’t entirely worn off yet. The ankle twinged, ached, but the strapping Kikuchi had applied was helping a lot to support it. Some rest would do for now. He could apply ice after dinner.   
  


Yuzuru held the door open to the bedroom and followed Shoma inside. It wasn’t particularly big, but wasn't too cramped either, even with the two beds on either side of the room and their suitcases taking up space.

Yuzuru closed the door behind him, slowly so the click of the latch was as quiet as it could be. He slouched against the door, catching Shoma’s hand and tugging him close. Shoma looked a little puzzled, amused, but didn’t protest at all while Yuzuru pulled him into an embrace. Shoma’s arms circled his waist and Yuzuru smile, brushing his fingers through Shoma’s unruly hair before lightly cupping his cheek.

“Okay—” Yuzuru dropped his hand to where Shoma’s jaw squared off, and his neck began “— now I can say hello the way I wanted to before.”

Shoma smiled, leaning forward in tandem with Yuzuru, so they met halfway. The kiss was soft, short and sweet. A peck, and another, and another. Lingering for barely a second. A teasing brush that was barely there.

“Hi,” Yuzuru breathed. The tip of his nose brushing against Shoma’s. This was everything Yuzuru had wanted, needed, from the second he had laid eyes of Shoma hours earlier. Closeness, quiet, peace. Shoma’s chest against his, warms puffs of air against his cheek. 

“Hi,” Shoma whispered back. 

Yuzuru felt the following smile against his lips, dipping in for another kiss. Longer, lingering. One after the other. From the lightest of touches to firmer kisses with their eyes fluttering shut and their bodies moving ever closer. Yuzuru had missed this. The touching, the kissing, the wanting and feeling wanted. The blissful feeling of every little thought leaving his brain as the whole world reduced down to this; Shoma’s lips against his, growing damper and warmer each time they met. He liked feeling the way Shoma slowly melted into him, getting more comfortable and confident with each touch. A slow, gentle reacquaintance on a level that couldn’t be achieved through words and smiles. Yuzuru touched the hair at the nape of Shoma’s neck, ran his hand down the length of his spine. 

He had been worried they wouldn’t be able to find their footing, after so long apart. He thought it would be difficult to get back where they had been in the summer. It was, in a way. The emotional, mental side of their relationship had grown while the physical side had no chance to develop. It was awkward to try to reignite it — moments when they paused and fumbled, laughing against each other’s mouths. But at the same time, it seemed to click into place. It didn't have to be perfect, they only needed to enjoy it, together.

Shoma’s hand slid under Yuzuru’s t-shirt, fingertips still cold from being outside, grazing over his hip. His hand curled at Yuzuru’s waist, gentle but also firm enough to make Yuzuru feel a wave of need that almost made his knees buckle. It was as if Shoma was holding Yuzuru in place, while he angled his body to press even closer, his other hand still grasping the back of Yuzuru’s neck. Yuzuru’s hand drifted lower to feel the curve of Shoma’s butt and was rewarded with a soft sound against his mouth.

Yuzuru broke for air, head tilting back and hitting the door with a dull thud. He groaned softly at the kiss Shoma pressed to his neck. “I can’t. We’re competing in two days.”

That fact didn’t stop him from searching for Shoma’s mouth again, from squeezing at his butt and pulling his body closer.

Shoma gasped, Yuzuru's half-hearted objection bringing him back to his right mind. “Your coach is right outside,” he said pointedly. “What if he came in?”

“We could do it here against the door. Then he can’t,” Yuzuru purred into Shoma’s ear, brushing his lips below, where the blush usually rose on Shoma’s face, but he couldn’t hold back his grin.

“Yuzu!” Shoma laughed, pushing at Yuzuru’s chest. “No. Not when your coach is right there.” He shook his head, looking flushed, but he had mischief in his eyes. Yuzuru loved that look he got when he was comfortable and playful and teasing. “We should’ve gone to my apartment instead.”

Yuzuru laughed and stood up straighter, his hand moving back up to the small of Shoma’s back, the other slipping down to his shoulder. “I missed you.”

“I’m aware,” Shoma said, casting his eyes down Yuzuru’s body. “You’re gonna have to deal with that yourself.”

Yuzuru flushed. He felt the need to defend himself for getting a little worked up from just kissing. It had been awhile since they had been in this position. It had been even longer, way too long, since anything physical with anyone was a viable option. Even if the timing was not so great. Instead, Yuzuru found himself saying lamely, “I don’t...do that before competing.”

Shoma sniggered. “I knew you were the type…”

“You’re not?”

“No.”

Yuzuru leaned forward to press another kiss to Shoma’s mouth. Another another. Each time, Shoma met him. Soft. Yuzuru patted the top of Shoma’s hair, changing his mind about trying to run his fingers through his hair upon feeling it. If he tried, Yuzuru would probably end up hurting him when his fingers inevitable got caught in the tangles. Shoma really had to stop dying and perming and straightening his hair in cycles. 

Yuzuru stroked the back of his fingers against Shoma’s cheek instead.

“Okay. Let’s. Sit down.”   
  


They sat side-by-side on the bed, backs against the wall. Yuzuru stretched out his legs, reaching for a pillow to slide under his right ankle for relief. The ache wasn’t too bad, but he did think that he should have grabbed an ice pack after all. He hadn’t wanted to tend to his injury in front of Shoma. Even if Yuzuru was around, entertaining the media, and showing he was able to compete, he was still wary of giving Shoma reason to doubt his ability to perform. He didn’t want Shoma thinking it was still all on his to get the medals the federations craved. Shoma had already done his part, he had already done enough. Yuzuru wanted him to be in a comfortable mental space to perform his best for his own pride, not to feel it was a duty.

Shoma looked down at the ankle, at the tape that was wrapped around it for support, but he didn’t seem particularly disturbed by it. Shoma had mostly avoided severe injury, but he knew the drill when it came to treating sprains or even mild discomfort. Ankles and legs always ached. Sometimes skaters just needed that support.

“How long do you need to keep it strapped for?” He asked mildly.

“For the competition. And the gala,” Yuzuru admitted with a shrug. “I’m not sure about after.”

Shoma hummed. “Sota still has to wear support. He might be able to skate without it after this summer though.”

A few years ago, if anyone had asked Yuzuru who he thought would come out of juniors and make it to the Olympics, he probably would have said Sota. He had a lot of potential. He would have at least put up a good fight for a spot. It was hard to predict where he would be now if he had remained healthy. But Sota fractured his ankle. And kept of re-injuring it over, and over. Sometimes the sport could be cruel. 

“I’ll probably still need to tape it through Grand Prix next season,” Yuzuru murmured, placing his hand over Shoma’s. “If I can do it.”

“You’re thinking about sitting it out?”

Yuzuru fidgeted, toying with Shoma’s fingers absently, stroking between his knuckles. “It’ll depend on what the doctors say once I’m done here.”

Shoma frowned, tilting his head in confusion.

“I can skate on it. I’ll be okay for this competition,” Yuzuru assured. Shoma’s frown didn’t clear. Yuzuru looked down at where their hands rested on his thigh, threading their fingers together. “But. I’m probably going to have to restart my recovery program once this is over.”

Shoma stared at him, then his ankle. He pulled his hand away. “It’s not healed.”

Shoma said it flatly. A statement, not a question. His back straightened, brows still furrowed. Yuzuru cursed mentally; he shouldn’t have said anything. “I don’t really know what state it’s in. I haven’t got it checked because I didn’t want to be forced to pull out—”

“I thought you were doing okay.” Shoma’s posture crumpled, his shoulders slouching forwards and away from Yuzuru. His tone was soft, disbelieving. “You didn’t tell me any of this. You kept telling me everything was fine.”

“I just didn’t want to talk about it.” 

“At all or to me?” Shoma asked, sharper. 

A kick of panic had Yuzuru scrambling fir something to say. This wasn’t supposed to happen. They were supposed to cuddle, talk about other things, share their hopes. Something. Say how much they missed each other and spend an hour reconnecting. This was supposed to be a quick date before Yuzuru got too caught up in preparing for the competition. Their first Valentine’s day together. Yuzuru’s plan that he had day-dreamed about in Toronto was slipping away from him faster than he ever could have expected. “I didn’t want to worry you—”

Shoma recoiled as if Yuzuru had slapped him across the face. Yuzuru realised too late that his answer had basically been a confirmation that it was Shoma specifically he didn’t want to confide to. He hadn’t meant it like that, but that was how it sounded.

“I was telling you everything. I told you everything about my training, how I felt, what was stressing me out, what jumps I was working on, what parts of me were hurting, when I couldn’t sleep—” Shoma cut off, looking away from Yuzuru. His voice quivered, Yuzuru wasn’t sure if it was anger or hurt. Possibly both.“Did you need to keep me on edge? Did you need me intimidated like Nathan and Boyang?”

“It wasn’t like that. Really. I’m telling you now—” Yuzuru pleaded, desperate. Trying to explain. 

“Does it still hurt?” Shoma interrupted, whispering like he didn’t really want to ask because he knew he wouldn’t like the answer. 

“I’m taking painkillers,” Yuzuru confessed ruefully. Shoma let out a punched out breath. “It’s still painful. It’s better than it was but not perfect.”

Shoma closed his eyes, head turning up towards the ceiling as if trying to contain himself. When he opened his eyes again, he looked straight ahead, staring blankly at the opposite wall. His arms loosely crossed over his body. His face a neutral mask. It was like a wall had gone up between them.

Yuzuru felt a lump in his throat. It was a miserable realisation to make that he had messed up. Not in telling Shoma now that his injury was still a problem, that he was still in pain. But only telling him now. He had done the exact thing he had been trying to avoid. He had feared that the past three months of being separated, of Yuzuru, struggling with an injury and all the mental strain that came with it, would distance them. But he created an ocean's worth of distance in less than five minutes.

Yuzuru bit his lip, swallowing hard to try to clear the ache. Maybe if Shoma just knew the reasons why Yuzuru had hidden the reality of his condition, it wouldn’t be too bad. “I didn’t want to burden you. You got sick, and then you were stressed because I left you leading Japan alone. I didn’t want to add more things to make it worse.”

“After you got injured, I knew you were having a hard time,” Shoma said slowly. He sounded so far away, Yuzuru wanted to reach out and touch him to bring him back. But he knew what it felt like, every time Javier had done that to him. When Yuzuru had been upset over something, whether he was in the wrong or not, Javier would touch him, and it always seemed manipulative. Or patronising. As if Javier thought a pat on the arm would be enough to calm him down and have him back on side. So Yuzuru kept his hands firmly to himself and let Shoma talk and listened.

Shoma turned his head to face him. His brown eyes looked sad, wounded. “I kept giving you chances to talk to me, and you shut me down every time.” Shoma sighed. Yuzuru was horrified that see the emotion leave Shoma’s face, to hear his voice become flatter and emptier. It was worse, far worse, to have Shoma become more withdrawn and guarded right before his eyes than to see him cry. “I wanted to be there for you. As much as I could be. I wanted to help you.”

“You did,” Yuzuru insisted. “I just- I didn’t need you to listen to me whine about how my ankle wasn’t healing—”

Yuzuru realised as soon as the words came out of his mouth it was the wrong thing to say. Shoma’s face crumbled, unable to hold onto the controlled, blank expression.

“You _lied_ to me.” Shoma glanced at Yuzuru, his head hung. “You let me think everything was okay. I understand you wanted to keep everyone in the dark as a strategy, but did you need to include me in that?”

Yuzuru was at a loss. He thought he was justified in not talking to Shoma about the complications with his injury or the depth of mental strain it took on him. He had done it all with the intention of not dragging Shoma down with him, not making him worry, keeping the moments they talked to each other as a light in otherwise grim circumstances. Yuzuru had the intention of sharing more later, when the Olympics were over, or after the season was done and they had the summer to deal with whatever the situation would be. He hadn’t considered how Shoma would end up feeling, or what Yuzuru’s actions would mean to him. The only thing Yuzuru thought to do was try to explain why he had done it, but it wasn’t the reasons that hurt Shoma, it was the act of lying and hiding things in itself. Yuzuru didn’t know how to make that better. It couldn’t be undone with excuses.   
  


“I should leave,” Shoma said tonelessly. He gathered himself, stood up from the bed. “I need to get back to my hotel.”

“Shoma, please don’t.” Yuzuru scrambled to follow him. “Stay a bit longer.” 

Shoma shook his head. He opened the bedroom door, pausing to speak before heading out. “You prefer having space anyway. I shouldn’t be distracting you.”

“Don’t. Don’t be like that,” Yuzuru pleaded, his breath coming out quick, stilted and upset. Ghislain watched them cross the room from the table in the kitchen, frozen and awkward. Shoma, walking fast, lips pressed together, shoulders hunched like he was trying to curl into himself. Yuzuru trailing after him, close to tears, overwhelmed at how quickly everything had gone wrong.

“Shoma, please stay so we can talk about this,” Yuzuru begged, distraught. Shoma paused, his feet half in his shoes, looking up. He is so angry that it’s impossible for him to hide it, no matter how hard to was trying. Yuzuru almost wished Shoma would blow up at him. That would be easier to deal with than Shoma becoming cold and walking away.

“I don’t want to fight,” Yuzuru croaked. “Please, stay. I’ll explain-”

Shoma huffed, only seeming to get angrier. “I’ll see you at practice tomorrow.” 

He forced his feet into his shoes and slipped out of the door, closing it quickly behind him to deter Yuzuru from following.   
  


Yuzuru covered his face, letting out a soft whine of dismay. He had messed up. He understood why. Shoma had made it clear. For months Yuzuru had been enjoying an openness from Shoma that he never reciprocated. He had seen Shoma vulnerable but faced him with a mask. Shoma had done everything he could to let Yuzuru be closer, and in return, Yuzuru had hidden things and lied and kept Shoma on the outside.

Yuzuru realised he didn’t say sorry. He had been trying to hard to explain himself and stop Shoma from leaving he didn’t do the one thing that might have actually help. Apologise.

“Yuzu?” Ghislain asked. At some point he had risen from his chair and started to approach Yuzuru with trepidation. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Yuzuru shook his head, dazed. Ghislain was friendly and approachable, easy to get along with, easily accepting of people. But Yuzuru couldn’t talk to him about this. “It’s nothing.”

Yuzuru retreated back to the bedroom, sitting on his bed with an ice pack on his ankle and his phone in his hand, trying to think of what he should say.

‘ _ I’m sorry. _ ’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was a little late.


	24. Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuzuru is always reaching for the top. His hard work pays off, but he still has to learn how to let go.

**Gold**

Yuzuru sat on his bed, knees pulled up to his chest. He could feel time passing. Five minutes. Ten minutes. There was nothing else he could do. Not now.

He prodded at his phone, opening up a message from his mother that he had been too busy typing, deleting and re-typing messages to Shoma to read until now.

 **Mom** : _How was practice? What’s your starting number?_

He could call his mother, tell her what had happened and ask for advice… He could reply to her message and admit he wasn’t okay, that in less than an hour after laughing and joking at the draw everything had gone sideways. He tapped his finger against the side of his phone. He probably wouldn’t get to see her until after the free skate, because of how strict the organisers were with who got to enter certain areas and the relative stinginess in giving out passes for an athlete’s team. She was with his sister, his father, his grandparents; all the family that could get tickets and make their way to Korea to cheer him on in person. He didn’t want to bother her with this.

‘ _Practice was fine. My ankle is holding up. I drew 25_ ’ was the message he settled on. He locked his phone and put it face down on the bed.

Restless, he pulled his laptop out from his bag and set it up on the bed, pulling up one of the videos he had loitering on his desktop. He watched the short program performance from earlier in the season carefully, moving his arms along with the image of himself on the screen. Gingerly standing to shuffle his feet across the floor. To refresh the image he had burned into his mind of every exact movement he had to do in two days time and burn off the agitation that hummed in his limbs. Taking his mind off Shoma. Stopping himself from sending more messages or trying to call him. There was only one more practice day before the short program. Yuzuru couldn’t let himself fall in the cracks that had opened up in his psyche. There had to be balance between the self that was a person who was upset and shaken from a fight with a lover, a friend and the athlete that was here to win. It felt callous to flip a mental switch back to competing so soon after Shoma had left, but wallowing wouldn’t solve anything.

There was a knock on the door that made Yuzuru stop. He paused the video and scrambling to sit back down on the bed. He shouldn’t be image training before treating his ankle.

“Hey,” Tracy popped her head into the room, holding up an ice bag as an offering. “Can I come in?”

“Sure.” Tracy closed the door behind her and came to sit beside him. “Ghislain called you,” Yuzuru stated flatly, taking the ice pack from her hands and straightening out his legs.

“He did,” Tracy said simply as she sat down. She tilted her head, giving Yuzuru an assessing look. He lay the ice over his ankle.  
“So...Shoma was here?” She asked, merely to confirm what she had visited him for. Yuzuru nodded mutely. “He said when Shoma left it seemed like you had an argument. And you won’t tell him what happened, so he thought maybe you’d rather talk to me,” Tracy explained. She touched Yuzuru’s arm gently to prompt him to look at her.

Yuzuru sighed. Of course Ghislain would call her. Now was a horrible time for Yuzuru’s mood to turn or to have something bothering him. Yuzuru could go to Brian for general problems, go to Ghislain when something wasn’t working with his jumps, but when he had a problem with his mind or mood it was Tracy who he was most comfortable confiding to. “After I got injured we talked a lot,” Yuzuru started gloomily. “But I didn’t tell him anything about my recovery. And when I did, I lied and said everything was fine.”

Tracy hummed. “And he found out?”

Yuzuru gave a solemn nod. “I told him I’m on painkillers.” Yuzuru glanced at Tracy, feeling a bit embarrassed. “He talked to me about all kinds of things when he was stressed about the Grand Prix... but I kept lying and telling him my ankle was fine.”

Tracy nodded, making a little sympathetic sound. Yuzuru groaned as he remembered, maybe not the worst part but certainly a very unhelpful aspect of how he had responded to the problem. “I didn’t even apologise while he was here. I just tried to explain why I lied until he left.”

“He was upset about it?” Tracy asked. Yuzuru nodded slowly. “Do you know why?”

“Yeah.” Yuzuru nodded. His voice rough. “I think so.”

“Why didn’t you tell him?” Tracy asked. Yuzuru felt like a child in school getting a talking to from a teacher. He shook his head and shrugged. It wasn’t an easy question to answer. Tracy pursed her lips, thinking for a moment. “Do you think he would have told people, if you had been honest?”

Yuzuru shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Do you think he might have used it against you in competition?”

Yuzuru frowned. Shoma had initially drawn a similar conclusion, and it was maybe something Yuzuru should’ve seen coming. It wasn’t much of a stretch to think that Yuzuru had lied thinking of Shoma as a competitor and rival, and not as a partner. Not as someone he was in a relationship with. “It wouldn’t make a difference. He always just tries to skate the best he can.”

“He wants to win. You all do,” Tracy pointed out. “Isn’t that why you didn’t want anyone to know your condition?”

“That’s not why I lied to him. I didn’t want to add to his stress.”

That reasoning sounded hollow to even Yuzuru now. At the time it had seemed clear-cut, that the possibility he wouldn’t be fit to continue skating would make everything more overwhelming for Shoma. There was a selfish aspect to it all too. Admitting to Shoma that he was afraid he couldn’t come back would have made it seem all the more real. He wasn’t ready to hand all the responsibility of being the top representative of the country entirely over to Shoma when they barely had to chance to really share that role.

Yuzuru skated knowing he could rely on Shoma to do enough to secure what they needed. More and more, as a teammate, Yuzuru felt confident that if he stumbled, Shoma could cover for him. Yuzuru didn't want to take that mutual sense of assurance in competitions away from Shoma or have him blaming himself if spots were lost. He didn't want Shoma worrying about being put in that position so soon. So Yuzuru didn't tell him the ankle still hurt and the injury wasn't healing the way it was supposed to. But the more Yuzuru thought about it the more he saw that it was unfair. He had been gutted when Tatsuki had retired without warning in the middle of the season. Giving Shoma no inkling that he might be too injured to go to Worlds or even to compete here was settling him up to be totally unprepared for the swift shift or responsibility landing squarely on his shoulders.

And it wasn’t right to only think of Shoma as a skater in this way. Their relationship extended so far beyond two athletes on the same team. Yuzuru drew his left leg back up, wrapping his arms around it, head bowed and shoulders hunched.

“What about him,” Tracy started after a moment of thoughtful contemplation. “Could this argument be him unbalancing you before the short?”

Yuzuru stiffened, head raising to look at Tracy, totally baffled she could consider that. It hadn’t even crossed his mind. Besides, arguing now was unlikely to be doing Shoma any favours mentally. Yuzuru shook his head in absolute refusal. “He cares about me more than winning.”

Tracy smiled and touched Yuzuru’s shoulder, giving it a motherly pat. “Does he know that you understand that?”

“Maybe not.” Yuzuru’s head dropped down again. That, he supposed, was the other problem. Shoma felt locked out, pushed aside, closed off from Yuzuru on an emotional level. Even though they had both put in work to connect, even though Shoma had lowered his defences, Yuzuru’s clumsy efforts to protect Shoma’s mental state ended up making Shoma feel distanced.

Yuzuru knew he had a tendency to hold people at arm’s length, but it hit him how much of a reflex that was and how much it affected his relationships with people. He had all these justifications for doing it, but no matter what benefits he thought it had, to build a bubble around himself, to protect himself, to not push too much of himself on others... he had to question if it was really so bad to have one person he didn’t hide from at all. Just saying that he trusted Shoma wouldn’t be sufficient. Yuzuru would have to prove it, show it, actually offer up something uncomfortable and real.

Tracy thinned her lips; her eyes were soft and sympathetic. Yuzuru gave a glum little sniff. “I sent him a message saying sorry, but he hasn’t replied.”

“He might need time to cool off,” Tracy offered, still rubbing his shoulder. “It’s good you said that your sorry, though. That’s a good start.”

“What if it’s not enough…”

“First fight?” Tracy asked, humoured. Yuzuru nodded. “Couples argue sometimes. It’s no different to when friends argue. You talk about the problem and learn how to be better for each other.”

Yuzuru nodded again, taking it in. It was a rude reminder that Yuzuru didn't have much experience with relationships. Not like this. Arguments with friends had been mostly when he was a teenager, still in Japan, still in school; when everything was dramatic and fast, and the talking and emotional growth didn’t follow so much as the issues were dropped and everything went on as if nothing happened, or the friendship ended. He guessed that everything with Javier was a lesson in how to deal with conflicts, but it felt more like a study in what not to do more than anything else. Yuzuru chewed his lip. He had told himself when he started dating Shoma that he had to be honest and open for it to work, an informed decision that came right off the back of years of hiding things from Javier. He should’ve noticed that he was going back on that promise. He should’ve noticed that he was messing things up.

“You’ll be fine.” Tracy gave his shoulder one last squeeze and let him go. “Let him sleep on it, get your thoughts straight and try talking to him tomorrow.”

Yuzuru felt better by the time she had left. The panic of trying to figure out how to fix the situation replaced with something of a plan of action. Talk to Shoma, be honest, acknowledge what he did wrong and get to a place where they at least felt more stable before they got through their afternoon practice so neither of them would feel insecure and distracted entering the competition. He removed the ice from his ankle, ate, ran through the strengthening exercises for his ankle and tried to rest and refocus his mind.

Yuzuru lay in bed that night, listening to Ghislain’s sleep-heavy breaths. He spread his hand over the empty space on his pillow and stared at it, wondering if Shoma was having trouble sleeping too. Probably. The cocktail of pressure, nervousness and excitement for the competition would be enough on its own, but the twist of an unresolved argument and the sting of Yuzuru’s lies was likely the nail in the coffin for Shoma’s ability to sleep. Yuzuru’s hand curled against the pillow, guilt spreading through him. He wished he could have Shoma next to him, so they could take comfort in each other’s presence and soothe each other to sleep. Or call him, talk to him now while they both lay in bed. Yuzuru closed his eyes as if to will himself to shut off and rest.

***

Not everyone would do the afternoon practice. Some would do the evening practice that was open to the public. The organisers had subtly pitched for Yuzuru to go to the evening session since they suspected that the reason tickets had sold so well was because of the possibility he might show up. Yuzuru had considered, but opted against it. Practicing in front of a crowd was nerve-wracking, the afternoon time slot was at least closer to the schedule of the competition and would give him more time to properly treat his ankle and go to sleep early. Maybe he would have practised in front of a crowd if he wasn’t injured, but his ankle was like a fussy child that needed attention after every outing. He had to keep that in consideration.

It was much like the day before -- the way that Yuzuru caught Shoma’s eye across the room as they set up their respective corners to warm up in. Only this time the tension in the air was awkward. Just like the day before, Yuzuru wandered away from Brian. Just like the day before, Shoma muttered something at Mihoko to make her leave, giving Shoma a confused look before she shrugged and walked away to talk to Kobayashi. Just like the day before, Yuzuru’s stomach felt like a lepidopterarium as he got closer to where Shoma was sat on his mat, looking up at his with big, round, apprehensive eyes.

“Hi,” Yuzuru said softly, receiving a little nod in response. He dithered at the edge on Shoma’s mat, not sure if he was welcome to sit down beside him. He should propose they move somewhere more private. The locker rooms were more-or-less empty since everyone showed up ready for the ice, they could slip away from a moment to talk, but that might be conspicuous. He didn’t want to draw any attention. Perhaps that was paranoid, but he doubted Shoma would want to take that risk either. Yuzuru shuffled his feet, subtly putting more weight on his left side. His ankle didn’t hurt, not really, but he was in the habit now of saving it as much as he could.   “Are you still angry?”

“I’m not angry,” Shoma said quietly. He looked tired, though Yuzuru couldn’t honestly say he looked any more tired than usual. Shoma licked his dry, cracked bottom lips, rubbing them together the way he did whenever he was uncomfortable.  “I don’t know how I feel right now.”

Yuzuru sat down in a clumsy, stuttered motion. Not quite beside Shoma, more in front of him, legs folding left beneath right. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Shoma mumbled. His expression was flat, his gaze focused somewhere behind Yuzuru before it dropped to the floor. “But sorry doesn’t make it okay.”

Yuzuru’s breath caught on a spasm of panic. He hadn’t known what to expect out of this conversation, where it would or even could go given they had a limited time frame and here in a room full of people. Shoma telling him sorry isn’t enough knocked Yuzuru’s hopes to break the tension and be on better terms before the competition right out of his hands.

“Are you breaking up with me?”

Shoma’s brows knitted. “What? No.” He looked up, taken in Yuzuru’s stricken expression and letting his frown melt away. Though he still had a rather fed up look to him, like Yuzuru was being ridiculous. “I accept your apology. We still need to talk about it.” Yuzuru shuddered out a relieved breath. Shoma rolled his eyes, his knee nudging into Yuzuru’s. “You’re so dramatic.”

Yuzuru sulked but felt his mood lighten significantly at Shoma’s second playful nudge. To his side, Nathan started rolling out his muscles. Across the room, Yuzuru could feel Brian impatiently waiting for him, looking over from where he was getting Javier started on his warm up.

Yuzuru shot Shoma a wan smile. “Now isn’t a good time, huh?”

Shoma huffed out a small laugh. “No, not really.”

“We can talk about it properly after the competition?” Yuzuru suggested. It wasn’t ideal, but it was probably their only option.

“Yeah,” Shoma bobbed his head in agreement, maybe a little resigned but not as frosty as before. “That would be better. When we’re less...stressed.”

“But we’ll be okay? Until then?”

Shoma tilted his head, considering Yuzuru for a moment. “Is there anything else you’ve been hiding from me?” Yuzuru shook his head. Shoma managed a tired smile. “We’ll be okay.”

Yuzuru wanted to lean forward and pull Shoma into a hug but thought against it. Shoma looked at him like he was waiting for Yuzuru to speak. “I didn’t want us to take this out onto the ice. You know?”

“You don’t have a choice,” Shoma muttered. “You’re the one with the injury.” Yuzuru tensed slightly, not so much at the reminder that his ankle wasn’t in great condition -- it wasn’t like he could forget that -- but more at the disgruntled tone and the deliberate dodge of what Yuzuru meant. Shoma blew out a breath. “Sorry. That--That sounded mean.”

“It’s true,” Yuzuru shrugged. “I’ll be fine.” Shoma seemed to dim at that. Another dismissal. Another platitude to hide behind. Yuzuru looked down, pausing for a beat to steel himself. “I’m worried. I’m scared my ankle won’t hold up. I’m scared I’m going to make the injury worse. But I have to tell myself I’ll be fine.” It was hard to say out loud, at this point when it was so dangerous to let himself feel the depth of that fear. Shoma seemed to notice, wiggling a little closer so he could slide his hand over Yuzuru’s, link their fingers together and give a comforting squeeze. Yuzuru looked at their joined hands. “I’ve been doing everything I can. I just hope it’s enough.”

Shoma rubbed Yuzuru’s hand with his thumb. “I believe in you.”

Yuzuru turned his hand in Shoma’s grip, so they were palm-to-palm, fingers laced together. His gaze drifted, spotting Shoma’s open case behind him. His boots on top, bits of tape still stuck to them, a telling number of rolls of tape stuffed next to them. Yuzuru frowned. “Are your boots okay?”

“They started breaking down after 4CC,” Shoma said, not sounding particularly bothered. “I didn’t have time to break in a new pair.”

Yuzuru looked up at Shoma’s face. He couldn't help but remember Javier’s problems at Sochi. He didn't want Shoma to suffer similar disappointment.  “Are they going to get through the competition?”

“They’ll survive,” Shoma assured. “World’s will be a problem, though.”

Yuzuru was going to say something ensuring, supportive. Breaking in new boots could be a real pain, especially if you were doing it in a rush, but there should be enough time for Shoma to get new boots ready and train for Worlds. But Brian caught Yuzuru’s eye, sharply gesturing at him to move _now_. “Ugh, I have to go, or Brian is going to have an aneurysm.”

Shoma chuckled and let go of his hand. “Have a good practice.”

“You too,” Yuzuru said with a smile, standing up feeling far better than he had when he had sat down. “Good luck tomorrow.”

Tracy grinned at him as he made his way back to the little area where they had decided to huddle, between Yuzuru's space and Javier's space -- close enough that coaches could flit between the two of them, but separate enough that they weren’t stressing each other out. “Better?”

Yuzuru nodded in passing, scurrying to his mat.

“What took so long?” Brian asked, a little grumpy. “I know you want to greet your team mate but--”

“We’re helping each other with nerves,” Yuzuru cut in, giving Brian a sheepish little smile. “Shoma has very strong mental.” Not a _complete_ lie.

Brian faltered. “That’s very nice of him, but you do need to warm up properly.”

“I know.”

Kikuchi looked amused when Yuzuru got down on the mat to start the lighter part of his routine. “Maybe don’t spend so much time chatting tomorrow.”

Yuzuru nodded and started to prepare himself.

***

Four months since the injury, since the last time he had performed in front of a crowd, competed. Six weeks since he got back on the ice. Three weeks since he was able to train his jumps. Two weeks since he started jumping quads again. The moment he had been working towards through all of that was here. The culmination of the past four years. The chance to display the breadth of his skills, honed and finessed further since Sochi.

Yuzuru didn’t talk to anyone before the practice. It was so early; he needed all the time he could get to wake himself up, work himself into the right frame of mind. When he went out onto the ice, the crowd had already started to filter in. Yuzuru tried to ignore them, tried to filter out the nerves ramping up. The world ended at the edge of the ice. Everything shrunk down to his blades against the ice, his breathing, the fraction of a second he was in the air and the moment he came down.

Though he couldn’t say it was all that unpleasant to have every successful jump met with cheers, and everything not-so-successful jumps met with supportive applause. A few tired misfires with the salchow, but Yuzuru ran through that series of steps until he had landed three clean in a row.

There was pain. Just a little bit. Watered-down and foggy behind a wall of painkillers but bleeding through enough to make its presence known whenever he landed a jump. But Yuzuru was used to that now. It wouldn’t be enough to hinder him.

The edge of nerves was about the right amount. The right kind. The situation, maybe, wasn’t on his side. He had the lingering injury, he had been out of competition for months and so had no momentum, he had no smaller event to warm up with beforehand and no team event to burst the bubble of Olympic nerves and areas of the media were still pegging Nathan as their winner. Yuzuru’s back was against a wall, but he found that was often when he flourished. That pressure pushing at his back was good for him. It left no room for doubt.

He kept an eye on the competition while he kept his muscles warm and supple, breaking for a moment to watch Junhwan fly across the ice. Even better than the team event. Yuzuru smiled as Junhwan received his scores, a new seasons best. He had wanted to qualify for the free skate and do the best he could.  Yuzuru glad to see him achieve that and be able to produce good performances. Yuzuru’s eyes flitted towards Shoma, who was also watching, bouncing on the balls of his feet only pausing to give silent applause for Junhwan’s score.

A month ago, a few weeks ago, Yuzuru was facing the possibility that this could be his last chance. His last competition. When he faced the crowd to greet them, and heard the swell of cheers in response, it didn’t feel like the beginning of a goodbye. As he raised his arms and bowed to the crowd, all he felt was ‘ _I’m here_ ’. The ice beneath his feet, the crackling energy in the air, the atmosphere thick with tension and hope and excitement...it all enveloped him in a warm embrace. He had expected to be kind of detached from the moment. He had feared he would experience it with real-time nostalgia; soaking in every second through a rosey lens, committing everything to memory, in case his ankle wouldn’t heal and his career would draw to a sad, premature end.

But everything was sharp and loud and real. The air was cold and crip, the stadium's vibrant purple, the crowd buzzing, music thumping along with his heartbeat. He took off for the six-minute warm-up viscerally present, focused, aware. He could feel the way every fan in the stands watched with their breath held each time he left the ice and the small release of joy when he landed it safely.

He was glad he was going first in the group. That meant he would be performing fresh.

“You know what to do,” Brian told him at the rink wall. Yuzuru nodded, holding out his hand for Brian to shake it. Brian’s grip was firm. “You’re in charge.”

Yuzuru took a steady breathes as he pushed away from the wall, checking his shoulders were level and rolled back, that his hips were square and back way straight. Palms pressed together; he took his place in the centre of the ice.

His heart hammered in his chest, stomach flipping with nervous-excitement. He’d seen it so many times, from so many places, the idea that he was defending his Olympic Gold. He didn’t agree with that line of thinking. The Sochi gold was his. It would always be his. The gold for Pyeongchang didn’t belong to anyone yet. He was here to claim it and fight for it. It wasn’t his to lose - only his to win.

Here was where he would throw down the gauntlet.

The stadium fell silent before the first notes of piano rang out. Everything felt still for a moment as if every person was holding their breath, filling the air with anticipation and hope. Yuzuru closed his eyes and breathed.

The music was so familiar, each movement so embedded into his muscle memory, that he could focus on the smaller details. Keeping his breath even, controlling right down to the tips of his fingers. Having skated clean in competition several times and having videos of clean practices resulted in a sharp mental image of himself skating each step perfectly from every possible angle. It was vital to seem calm and collected on the surface, to move fluidly and organically, to give the appearance that everything was light and easy and effortless. The sheer amount of time spent growing and refining the programs, the hundreds of hours put into practising it, allowed him to do that. He knew exactly what steps he had to do at what time, what speed he had to be travelling at and what position his body had to be in at the moment he swept his leg back and used the momentum to make his first jump. Four rotations in the air, then down on one blade. His ankle twinged; calf and knee and thigh contracting to take the force of impact and control the exit curve. But his face was composed, arms raised for balance, left leg lifted before coming down, moving onto the next sequence.

He didn’t have all the quads with the high base value. He didn’t need them. He had the jumps he needed. He had calculated everything. He knew exactly of what he was capable of. If he met those capabilities, he’d win.

Yuzuru thought of his ballet classes in the summer, bringing his arms to fourth position in his step, opening up. He remembered the teacher urging not to not to hit the position by the second count and hold until it was time to move again, but to let each movement grow, filling up every count, every note of the music. Arms up to fifth, opening up and floating down the second, everything light and flowing and continuous. Like the music. Shoulders back, but relaxed, spine straight, chin lifted, turning into his triple axel. He thought of the performances he had done in the past - the ease and calm he felt at Autumn Classic, the fire and determination in Boston, the confidence in Barcelona, the thrill of challenge at NHK. He brought the best bits into his performance now.

Yuzuru smothered the urge to smirk in satisfaction as he landed his final jump, as light and smooth as the others. The step sequence didn’t draw the program to a close; rather it was a final explosion before the end. Yuzuru’s energy unleashing in one definitive blow. A statement that couldn’t be misinterpreted. _I am here to win_.

The crowd rose to their feet, and Yuzuru struck his final pose, cheering joyfully. He lowered hard arms and took it all in. The cheers from the crowd. The familiar burn in his muscles from a finished program. The sweet relief of knowing he did his best without holding back of faltering

“ _Tadaima_ ,” He mouthed; to the fans and the cameras, the yellow bears bouncing off the rink wall and the young skaters whizzing around the collect them. To the ice. _I’m home._

That was all he could feel as he made his way to get his scores, talking through the replays with Brian and Ghislain. A fundamental _rightness_. This was where he belonged.

Falling short of his best score was disappointing, but he wasn't far away from it, and 111 was still a score that wouldn't be beat. Everyone who came after him could go clean and do their best and still not touch him and really that was all Yuzuru could have wanted. That had been his dream. To win without room for question. There was still the free skate to go, but it was a good start. Now was a question of how close the others would get.

If the gap was less than five points, he would consider adding the loop to his free program. If the gap was wider than that, it wouldn't be worth the risk. A clean program would be enough.

Giving comments to the media afterwards was a chore, it always was. Yuzuru watched the monitor out of the corner of his eye as Shoma skated, regretful that he wasn't free to watch. He wandered away when his score came in and settled away from the camera to watch Javier skate. It was surprising when Shoma came to join him, sat on the floor lighting stretching him muscles to cool them down.

“Done with interviews?” Yuzuru asked, a bit confused.

“I managed to get away.” Shoma sat down beside him with a tired groan. Of course Shoma would bolt as soon as he could. He hadn’t even changed clothes, the shimmering grey of his costume barely visible beneath his jacket. “How much have I missed?”

“The first half.” Yuzuru shrugged, eyes going back to the screen. “He got his jumps, just the axel left.”

They watched as Javier set up for it, both going tense as he took off, and relaxing when he landed.

“Nice,” Shoma muttered, clapping his hands cutely.

Yuzuru grinned. “You’re cheering him on now?”

“Sucks when anyone falls,” Shoma replied, turning his head slightly to look at Yuzuru. His skin was still damp with sweat, the flush in his cheeks gradually receding. “He helped me with my boots, so...”

Yuzuru shifted a little closer. There were no cameras around, just other skaters pottering about, packing up their things. And their coaches, gathering up their things so they would be able to throw on their uniform jackets and leave for the press conference as soon as they had to go. He put a hand over Shoma’s, gently guiding it closer to the space between them where their hands would be shielded from view by their splayed out legs. Shoma smiled, linking their fingers together and giving Yuzuru’s hand a squeeze. They held hands as they watched Javier finish his program, relaxed in knowing that no one was paying attention to them, and even if anyone looked over they wouldn’t see it.

“Ah, he’s gonna push me to third,” Shoma groaned, watching Javier’s smiling face waiting for his scores. He didn’t seem particularly upset about it. Ghislain edged closer to where they sat to watch the scores come in, Mihoko raised her head to pay attention too. 107. Shoma groaned again.

Yuzuru huffed. “The judges are so stingy, _no one_ from the last group has got season’s bests.”

Shoma hummed, looking at the scoreboard as it flashed on the screen. “He was close though.”

“You were great, by the way.” Yuzuru turned to Shoma, thumb stroking up and down Shoma’s finger.  “I should’ve told you sooner!”

“I haven’t congratulated you yet either!” Shoma laughed. Ghislain glanced at the two of them, sitting on the floor together giggling, and smiled.

They couldn’t stay like that. Once Boyang had finished and the competition was done there was a flurry of activity. Changing into their uniforms, going to the press conference. Yuzuru laughed, catching how long the sleeves of Shoma’s jacked were, fond at the way he cutely tucked his hands into them. Shoma was tired, clumsily knocking his nameplate off the desk and fumbling with the earpiece they were given so translators could work without sitting beside them. Yuzuru leaned over, helping Shoma fit the earpiece in. He admired how Shoma had handled the period when Yuzuru was injured, but there were some things he still needed support with. On the ice, Shoma was capable of being Japan’s ace if Yuzuru took a bow and moved on. Off the ice, though, he wasn't quite ready to be the face of the field. It wouldn’t suit him. Yuzuru was still needed. There was something oddly comforting in that.

Yuzuru caught Javier before they left, hugging him tight to congratulate him on his performance. There was no knowing where any of them would finish after the free skate, but they were in good positions after the short. They could take a breath, end the day satisfied they had done their best, and refocus for tomorrow.

***

Yuzuru blew out a breath and stepped onto the ice. The crowd roared. His lips twitched, but he brought himself back down before he could smile.

Focus. He needed that.

The practice had gone well. Backstage, Kikuchi did everything he could to get Yuzuru ready. Warm-ups that did not engage the ankle to avoid overexerting it exercises for Yuzuru’s balance and focus. A whole routine had been carefully crafted for Yuzuru’s needs. It was effective in drawing Yuzuru into a state of equilibrium. That space in the middle of nervousness, focus, and calm. Not too much of anything. Not relaxed enough to be sloppy, not so nervous he would make mistakes, not so focused and intense that he over thought and lost his head. Knowing that Nathan had responded to his misfortune the day before by throwing caution to the wind and more or less successfully going for six quads gave that kick of motivation he needed, the edge of having someone to beat that got him pumped before a performance.

He stopped, taking his started position, drawing him hand towards his chest, fingers pointing to the sky.

Focus. One thing at a time.

He had been fine, doing the short program, not suffering so much from the weakness of his ankle or the fitness he had hastily tried to raise once he was able to train again. But the Free program was twice as long with a lot more to do. His ankle ached even in the steps, once he passed the halfway point. His thighs burned, his arms starting to feel heavy. But that only drove him further. Yuzuru got the third quad, but the last suffered and lost the combination. But he didn’t fall. His arms stayed off the ice. His back and core muscles tensing to keep him upright. But it was fine, he threw the combination onto the next jump, clawing back some of the points that were lost. Two more to go. One more. Yuzuru’s toe hit the ice to launch himself up for the lutz, body pulling in tight to rotate.

His ankle faltered as he landed, almost folding the way it had when he injured it in the first place. The pain was dull, but it reached up through the haze of painkillers. But he didn’t fall. It was as if there were invisible hands holding him up, some force in the air around him keeping him upright enough to complete the landing without touching down or losing control, like the whispers of hope and faith from every fan watching manifested to let him finish the program without a fall. Their gasps of horror at seeing him fumble turned into enthusiastic screams as he saved the jump and exited to move on tho the finale.  
His thighs burned from the effort of correcting to counterbalance where the ankle wobbled, but he entered his spin without issue. Joy raced through him as he shifted positions and held his spin steady. He did it. No falls. Some minor errors but he had done everything he possibly could have. He exited the spin laughing, thinking about he saved that lutz. _How_? How had he even managed not to fall?

He threw out his arms to start the choreographic sequence and pictured Brian behind him, hitting the pose with him, and laughed again. He flew into the steps, lifted with the music. It was maybe the most fun he ever had skating this final section. He had pictured the sequence to be Seimei running through a bamboo forest, he skated feeling the spring of the dirt beneath his feet, the swaying bamboo around him, sunlight coming through in beams of gold. His heart was pounding, skin tingling. Jubilant, excited at the realisation the program was almost over, the pain in his ankle drowned out by the andrenline rampaging through his veins. All the energy that seemed to flood into him, he poured into the last sequence and final spin. And then it was over. He stamped his foot down and threw his arms out on the final beat of the drum and heard the stadium explode with rapturous applause. Yuzuru pointed up the the sky triumphantly before surging forward.

“I **_won_ **!” He yelled, almost not believing it. He could already feel tears prickling in his eyes. Pure, sweet relief rushing at him. He bent forwards, grasping his knees and gasped for air. “I did it!”

He won. If not the competition, then most definitely the fight against himself. He had torn the ligaments in his ankle, clung onto the edge to stop himself from sinking into a depression, did everything he could to right his body and his mind after struggled through one set-back after another. He had faced the possibility of having to say goodbye to his competitive career and showed up to the Olympics with his ankle still injured, on painkillers, after not competing for four months. And he did it. He skated a short program that almost hit his top score and a free program with no falls. It wasn’t quite two clean programs, it wasn’t perfect, but he had met his absolute capability. He would leave the ice with no regrets. No shame. No embarrassment. Only pride.

He leaned down and held his right ankle, silently thanking it for holding out until the very end. It wasn't like Boston. He hadn’t squeezed out a strong short program for his body to betray him in the free. He had held on. He mentally promised his poor little ankle that he’d make it up to it, somehow. A whole lot of ice, maybe. A nice massage. An actual visit to the doctor with a full scan and actually doing all of the rehabilitation he would undoubtedly need to do.

Yuzuru knelt on the ice. The crowd still cheering thunderously. He placed his hand flat against the ice. The way he had in Sochi. He giggled at the thought that maybe someone would get a photograph of him like that and make some comparison to the twin poses.

When he stood up and looked out to the crowd. He could see people crying, clapping so hard it must hurt, smiling with tears streaming down their faces. Not only Japanese people. Everyone. People with the American flag draped around them, people holding flags for Spain, people dressed up like the Russian flag all mixed in with so many holding the Japanese flag and banners bearing his name. All together in a standing ovation. He bowed to them, mouthing ‘ _thank you_ ’ to each side and bears bounced off the ice and the rink wall and a few unlucky photographers’ heads.

He fell into Brian as he left the ice, fingers curling into his jacket, taking deep breaths.

“Well done,” Brian murmured. “I’m so proud of you.”

“That was so hard,” Yuzuru gasped. And Brian chuckled, helping him standing straight, handing over his guards.

“I know,” Brian soothed. “You did great.”

Ghislain opened his arms for Yuzuru to hug him, patting his back, face ruddy and grinning. They went to the kiss and cry together, Brian dashing off in the opposite direction to join Tracy and Javier. They sat, watching the slow-motion replay of his elements, laughing at the lutz because neither of them knew how he managed to control it.

The score came in. First place. _317.85_ in total. Yuzuru leant forward and held his head in his hands for a moment, once the cameras were off him and Gislain had stood to leave. Javier would need near to 210 to beat him. Shoma would need closer to 214. Not impossible feats for either of them, but unlikely. Yuzuru had dreamt of getting two Olympic golds since he was a child. It was right at his fingertips. His eyes stung with happy tears.

“Yuzu?” Ghislain called out, reminding him it was time to get up and head back to the green room. Javier’s music started to play. Yuzuru rubbed his eyes and stood up.

Boyang greeted him first, puffy-eyed but smiling. Nathan shook his hand before accepting a one-armed hug. Yuzuru laughed at his awkwardness, despite the tightness in his throat and around his eyes of tears ready to be free.

“Congratulations,” Nathan said, smile sweet and genuine. Yuzuru was happy to see him smiling. His short program had been devastating, but his fight had been wonderful. Yuzuru wanted to tell him that, but his mind was so jumbled he couldn’t find the words.

Yuzuru nodded, not trusting himself to speak because he was probably going to start crying and Nathan was liable to find that alarming. He wondered if Nathan had done the same quick calculation as Yuzuru and come to the conclusion that the gold was as good as his.

Watching Javier skate was more nerve-wracking than actually skating himself, but also as joyous. One mistake, one popped quad into a double, but even with that, Yuzuru knew Javier had done it. Yuzuru rubbed at his eyes furiously to clear away where his eyes were leaking before the camera backstage came on. But it was useless when the score came in. Javier moved to second place. Javier would definitely make the podium. Yuzuru burst into tears.

Yuzuru had won. He knew it. And Javier would be on the podium with him. Whether he would be on Yuzuru’s left or right side would be decided by Shoma. That wouldn't matter. It wouldn't matter to Javier. All that was important was that he got on the podium.

Yuzuru took deep, calming breaths, distracting himself for a second by fumbling with his bag, looking up periodically to watch Shoma skate. He fell on his first jump, but recovered well and landed his second. It almost seemed like falling knocked out some of his nerves. Yuzuru had almost got his breathing back to normal when Javier entered the room, and just like that it was gone again. Javier walked straight to him, without hesitation. Yuzuru barely stood up before Javier was pulling him into a hug. Yuzuru rest his head on Javier’s shoulder automatically, like it was home. His hands gripped at Javier’s back, tears wetting his shirt. There was no word for what he was feeling. It was too much. Javier stroked his hair, fingertips scratching at the back of Yuzuru’s head like he was petting a cat. Yuzuru lifted his head, moving his hands to hold Javier’s shoulders and shaking them.

“You did it.”

“I did.” Javier smiled warmly, so much more composed than Yuzuru who felt like he was coming apart at the seams and spilling over. Javier gave the back of Yuzuru’s neck a light squeeze. “You did too.”

Yuzuru’s lip wobbled and he fell back into Javier’s body, face nestling against his neck. “I wanted you to win.”

Javier chuckled. “You’re such a liar.” Yuzuru sobbed out a high, thready laugh. Javier cradled his head tenderly. “There can only be one champion,” he muttered into Yuzuru’s hair. “And it’s always you. No matter what. No one deserves it more than you.” Yuzuru whimpered against his neck and tightened his arms around Javier’s shoulders. “I’m so proud of you.”

It took three more attempts before Yuzuru was composed enough to slip out of Javier’s arms. Every time he lifted his head up from Javier’s shoulder to take a breath, Javier would look at him. Wipe a tear. Smile. And a fresh wave of excitement, joy and _love_ would wash over him until he was crumpling again.

“Are you okay?” Javier asked when Yuzuru pulled away fully for the final time. Yuzuru nodded, throat tight and a bit dizzy, wiping his eyes. He had a headache, and his knees felt weak. He sat down and hiccupped between breaths. In and out. Trying to calm himself before he cried his way into a minor asthma attack.

Boyang smiled at the two of them awkwardly as they sat down to watch the final flight of Shoma’s program. The little box at the top of the screen told a story that almost made Yuzuru start crying again. He’d done well, a few errors. Tracy shot him an excited looking grin.

“It’s going to be close.”

“I don’t care,” Javier said, smiling blissfully. “I’ve already got a medal.”

Yuzuru bit his lip, pointedly staring at the screen. He sipped his water, hoping it would held ease his headache. He could see Shoma smile before he dipped into his cantilever and swelled with pride and affection. His chin quivered. He reached for his bag to pack up the last of his things. If he cried again, he might throw up.

They clapped when the camera in the green room came on, Yuzuru taking gulps of air to try to calm himself, bracing himself for Shoma’s score.

  1. Into second place. There it was. Confirmation. Yuzuru had won. Shoma was silver. Javier was bronze. Yuzuru had won alongside two people he loved and cherished the most. His team mate and his rink mate. His greatest friend, and his boyfriend. Tears filled his eyes again as he watched Mihoko throw herself at Shoma in delight and Shoma smile, albeit surprised and a bit lost. The cheers from the crowd were nearly deafening. It didn’t matter how much Yuzuru tried to compose himself. It was overwhelming. He looked at the camera to thank the crowd -- the world, the universe, whatever it was that made this possible -- one more time and tried to breathe. He replaced his boots and looked up. Brian caught his eye, guiding him into breathing exercises. Yuzuru laughed, standing to join Javier and Brian in a group hug. Shoma came in the room looking stunned as Yuzuru moved to hug Ghislain. Tracy offered Shoma her hand, congratulating him, before turning to get her turn embracing Yuzuru first, then Javier.



Shoma met Yuzuru’s eyes, and Yuzuru rushed to him, giving him a quick, tight hug and whispering his congratulations. He wanted to hold him longer, drape himself over Shoma and soak in his warmth, feel the tickle of his hair against his cheek and breath against his neck. But there were cameras everywhere, people all around and they had to get ready to head back out on the ice for the victory ceremony. Yuzuru felt like he was being pulled in five different directions.

Yuzuru managed to compose himself before heading out for the flower ceremony. Barely. They wouldn’t get the medals now, they’d go elsewhere later to be awarded their medal, like Sochi. Yuzuru didn’t mind this. That gave him time to stop crying first. He listened as the volunteers gave them instructions on where to skate and what order to go out in, nodding along. He wandered over to give Brian his skate guards and looked out at the crowd as he walked back to the group. He wanted to commit everything to memory. Every detail. Every banner around the stands, every detail in the design, how the air felt against his skin. He wanted to remember this moment in perfect clarity for the rest of his life.

“Okay?” Yuzuru asked Shoma as he got back.

“Yeah.” Shoma smiled, seeming to relax. Coming back to himself for a moment.

“I’m going to jump on the podium,” Yuzuru told him, flailing his arms in an exaggerated mime. Shoma laughed. He had wanted to at Sochi but had been scared he’d fall off and look like an idiot.

“I’m scared I’ll trip,” Shoma admitted brightly, as if he had read Yuzuru’s mind. “Like I’ll step out onto the ice and catch an edge and fall on my face.”

They both laughed. And for a moment, Yuzuru felt normal again. Okay.

Javier drifted over to them, drawing both Yuzuru and Shoma close. The crowd cooed, delighted at seeing the three of them embracing. Yuzuru patted Javier’s back. It hadn’t been like that at the last Olympics. They weren’t unfriendly, in any way. But not close. There was something extra special about winning alongside people he had a deep bond with. To stand together as three people who genuinely liked each other, supported each other, and we happy for each other’s successes. Yuzuru was touched beyond words to see Javier bring his arms around Shoma and draw him in, and to see Shoma automatically put his arm around Javier’s waist and reciprocate.

“I’m so happy for you,” Javier whispered. When he leant in close, Yuzuru could see that his eyes were wet too. “This is probably my last competition.”

Yuzuru sucked in a breath, feeling his eyes sting again. Javier continued to speak, wishing them the best in the future, but Yuzuru could barely focus over the blood rushing in his ears. Javier looked between the Yuzuru and Shoma fondly -- Yuzuru, back on the brink of tears, and Shoma totally lost but hugging him anyway.

Yuzuru whined, leaning forwards to hide his face against Javier’s neck. Yuzuru knew that this moment would come. He knew that Javier wouldn't see another Olympics. But to hear him say it was his last competition ripped through him. “No,” he sobbed. “No. I can't do it without you.”

Javier not competing meant Javier leaving Toronto. No more training together. No more Javier picking him up when he fell. No more seeing him wander in late for an afternoon session with a coffee and a sheepish grin. No more laughing at him sticking his tongue out behind Brian’s back, or teasing him when he came in hungover. No more skating together on quiet afternoons. Where would he be now, if he didn't have Javier to hold him while he cried in frustration over his injury, making him feel better about his slow progress? Where would he be without Javier making him laugh when he was stressed?

“You can,” Javier urged. He looked at Yuzuru directly, giving his hip an affectionate squeeze. “I’ll always cheer for you.”

Yuzuru sniffed, drawing back to hold Javier’s shoulder, trying to find the words for the immediate sense of loss that struck him. Their last competition together. Their last podium together. The last time they’d stand side-by-side to celebrate a victory together. It felt too soon. It was too much. Sad but somehow beautiful, that this would be the last dream they would share.

Yuzuru put his head down on Javier’s shoulder, crying into his shirt again. Shoma’s arm around his waist, Javier’s hand patting his head. It was a lot, to feel so blessed and happy at the same time as feeling so very sad.

“You’re so bad,” Yuzuru whined, straightening himself and wiping his eyes. He fanned his face, hearing the music signalling the beginning of the ceremony, doing his breathing exercises again so he wouldn't step out onto the ice and collapse into a puddle immediately. Shoma rubbed at the small of his back, briefly, before slipping away.

Yuzuru applauded with the crowd when Javier went out to take the podium. His throat burned, as Shoma followed. The pride was indescribable. Everything seemed to slow down, watching them hug, seeing Shoma waddle up to his spot. They seemed to shine up there. Yuzuru wished he could stop time, so he could take it all in as they each took their own place in history.

Yuzuru took his cue, skating out, filled exultation. He jumped up when it was his turn, throwing out his arms on his music cue and laughing. This was his moment. He soaked it in. He waved the paw of the commemorative soft toy presented to them to hide how his hands were shaking.

When Javier and Shoma joined him in the centre, Yuzuru smiled so hard his entire face ached. Javier tickled his sides. They way he always did. Yuzuru giggled but realised with a swoop in his stomach that this would be the last time.

After all the photos were taken in all the poses with their flags, Yuzuru turned to Shoma and beamed. It was incredible, what they had achieved together. There was so much he wanted to say, but it wasn’t the place. He ruffled Shoma’s hair, full of affection, glad to see his expression break into a smile.

One last lap, one last bow, one last chance to say thank you. Ghislain urged Yuzuru and Javier to pose for one last photo together, for himself. They finished with one last hug. And left the ice.

***

There was a break, a little window of time after the press conference, where they could stop and breathe. A break for physio and to change into comfortable clothes before they headed out to eat and make their way to the medal ceremony. They sat in the locker room packing away their things, a moment to themselves. Where for a few minutes everything could be quiet and private.

Shoma sat on the bench, tucked away in the corner of the room, staring blankly out in front of him. Totally out of it. Yuzuru approached him slowly so not to startle him. Shoma blinked like he was waking up. Yuzuru sat down, leaving some space between them, so Shoma didn’t feel crowded, stretching out his legs with a barely concealed wince.

“Overwhelmed?”

Shoma nodded. “Yeah.”

“Come here.” Yuzuru held out an arm as an offering. Shoma scooted closer, nestling himself against Yuzuru’s side. Yuzuru wrapped his arm around his shoulders and lay his cheek against Shoma’s head. “It’s just you and me.”

Shoma nodded again, slowly. He closed his eyes, taking slow, deep breaths while Yuzuru stroked up and down his arms. Yuzuru sighed in content, grateful for a little bit of peace in a hectic day, taking as much comfort as he hoped he was giving to Shoma in return. Soon they’d have to move again, face more crowds and media, have more strangers offering their congratulations in languages they would be clumsy and awkward in. They still hadn’t had a chance to see their families yet, so at least they had that to look forward to, but even meeting that would be on the clock. It was nice to be still and let everything sink in.

“Is this helping, or making it worse?” Yuzuru asked, voice hushed. He understood why Shoma would shut down. Everything up to now had been too fast, too loud, too many people, too much.

“It’s helping,” Shoma whispered back.

“I know it’s a lot.”

“It feels like my head has floated away from my body,” Shoma admitted, hushed and slower than normal like it was hard to get the words out. “Nothing feels real.”

Yuzuru gave Shoma’s arm a gentle squeeze. “I’m here with you.” He turned his head to press a kiss to Shoma’s temple, closing his eyes, focusing entirely on the way Shoma felt beside him. Just having him close, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against his side and warm puffs of air against his neck was soothing, tranquil. For a moment he could pretend they were elsewhere. Sat outside on a breezeless spring day, enjoying the sun, tranquil and quiet. “I’m so proud of you.”

Shoma opened his eyes, looking up at Yuzuru with a glimmer of humour in his eyes. “Don’t cry again,” he joked, drawing himself up to sit upright. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

Yuzuru pouted, absently tucking a wild curl of hair behind Shoma’s ear. “I’m just-- This the happiest I’ve ever felt in my whole life--” His voice wobbled. He paused, swallowing to clear his throat. Shoma was right; he felt like if he cried anymore, he’d collapse. Shoma smiled at him, and Yuzuru stroked his cheek with the back of his fingers. “And you get to be right next to me to share it with me...”

Shoma made a soft sound when Yuzuru trailed off, like a concerned puppy. Yuzuru gave a breathy laugh, bringing their foreheads together. His hand curls at the back of Shoma’s neck, eyes closing so many they’d be less tempting to produce more tears.

“I love you.”

Yuzuru heard how Shoma took in a breath like he was something a gasp, strange and strangled. He opened his eyes and leaned back enough for Shoma’s face to come into focus.His eyes were round and staring at Yuzuru in a kind of wonder, lips barely moving when he rasped out “You do?”

Yuzuru’s brows knotted, baffled. “You thought I didn’t?”

“I didn’t know,” Shoma said bluntly. “You didn’t tell me.”

Yuzuru felt a surge of guilt. He had wanted to say it earlier, but it felt like the kind of thing he didn’t want to say over the phone. Something he didn’t want to say right after an argument, when it could be confused as something said out of obligation or to manipulate Shoma into forgiving him easily. He had wanted the timing to be right, for the moment to be perfect. Maybe it never had to be. Maybe whenever he chose to say it, when the feeling of love hit such a peak that the words were at the tip of his tongue, it would have been a perfect moment. He had assumed Shoma would know anyway, the same way Yuzuru knew Shoma loved him without it being out into words. He should have known better. He remembered all too well the way he had wanted to hear ‘I love you’ so desperately from Javier at any point when they were together, but had feared being the one to say it first. He had held off with Shoma because he wanted to wait until it was real and unobstructed. When the love he had to offer matched what Shoma clearly felt for him. It hurt to discovered he had failed to show it first. Somehow this whole time, Shoma had been waiting, unsure, hoping but missing out on the journey Yuzuru took to reach his side and reciprocate his feelings.

Yuzuru leaned forwards to lightly peck the tip of Shoma’s nose. “I’m telling you now.”

Shoma’s face flushed. He bit his lip, unable to hold back a brilliant smile. Yuzuru cupped his cheeks, aching to see Shoma’s eyes shimmer with tears. His voice came out little more than a breathy whisper. “I love you too.”

Yuzuru melted, smiling, warm and tingling to the tips of his fingers. He wanted to kiss Shoma, but there was a nagging awareness at the back of his head holding him back. Their time was going to run out any moment. Someone would come in; a coach at best, a JSF rep, a volunteer to get them moving. “Sorry,” Yuzuru muttered. Shoma tilted his head, confused. Yuzuru laughed. “I probably shouldn’t have told you while you were already overwhelmed.”

Shoma wrinkled his nose and shook his head. Yuzuru’s heart clenched. “It’s never bad to tell me,” Shoma said with a smile. “But maybe do it again later when I can feel my legs, though.”

Yuzuru giggled, and while they were hidden and they had some time left, leant forward and kissed him.

***

The rest of the days flew by. It was dark by the time they got to the medal ceremony and bitterly cold outside. Yuzuru was hyper and bubbling over with happiness. He bounced around the backstage, taking the dorky Olympic ring glasses to pose for photos with Javier and grinning at every camera. Javier was glowing, matching Yuzuru’s energy. Shoma was drained and floating through everything like he was half-asleep, drowning in his oversized orange coat.

Yuzuru jumped on his second podium of the day, bursting with joy. The medal was heavy and beautiful, gleaming bright gold. He put it around Brian’s neck once the ceremony was over, hoping it got across even a fraction of how thankful he was for the work Brian put into getting him there.

The ride back to the Olympic village together. Shoma dozed on Yuzuru’s shoulder the whole ride back while Yuzuru merrily listened to music. He looked out of the window, looking out into the dark night, the shadows of the mountains broken up with the occasional flashes of lights from passing towns, the small sliver of moon in the sky and the dotting of stars that accompanied it. Yuzuru closed his eyes, exhaustion hitting him. He was looking forward to falling down on a bed and sleeping immediately. They would have to wake up early in the morning to start a day of media engagements. Shoma had an extra bag with a few days worth of clothes with him, so he could stay at the Olympic village again for convenience. They had agreed that Yuzuru would head to Shoma’s apartment first, partially because Keiji wanted to see him, but also for some time alone, but Yuzuru wasn’t sure if he would be _staying_ there.

“Would you be able to?” Shoma asked, as they sleepily shuffled down the hall the apartment.

Yuzuru adjusted the bag slung over his shoulder. “I could; I always pack an extra set of clothes in my training bag so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Shoma tilted his head curiously. “Why do you pack extra?”

“In case there’s an emergency or something.” Yuzuru cut himself short. It was an old habit he developed after the earthquake. No one could know when they might end up stuck somewhere, but he could be prepared in even the smallest way. Shoma didn’t press him to explain further, instead nodding, looking ahead.

“I would like it if you stayed.”

***

Keiji and Ryuichi had greeted them with boisterous cheers and applause, but they were both too wiped out and desperate to shower to celebrate their victories.

“We’ve been celebrating all day. I’m tired,” Shoma whined. “We’ll celebrate tomorrow.”

“Do you have anything I can sleep in?” Yuzuru asked Keiji. “I’m crashing here tonight.”

“I should have something,” Keiji shrugged. “You could just wear your training shirt--” He paused, remembering what Yuzuru usually wore when he was training. Or how much he would sweat. There were a few reasons that idea was dumb. “Nevermind. I’ll go get something.”

“Where will you sleep?” Ryuichi asked, eyeing the sofa in concern as Keiji wandered into his room. “I don’t think that is going to be comfortable.”

“He’s sleeping in my room,” Shoma answered before failing to stifle a yawn. “Don’t worry about it.”

“The beds are kinda small though.”

“I’m small and he’s skinny,” Shoma said with a shrug. “We’ll fit.”

Ryuichi considered that for a second and shrugged. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

***

Shoma groaned and flopped belly-first onto the bed, staying like that for a few seconds before rolling onto his side to give Yuzuru space. Yuzuru let his eyes sweep over him for a moment in; bare-chested and just wearing some loose shorts to sleep in, the opposite to Yuzuru in his underwear and a large t-shirt. It was funny to think that the last time they shared a bed they had dressed up properly despite the summer heat, now it was dead winter and they were barely clothed at all.

Shoma looked handsome in the low light from the single lamp beside the bed. His heavy-lashed eyes looked up at Yuzuru, obviously tired but waiting. He licks at his lips to make them less dry. The shadows cast on Shoma’ face draw out his angular bone structure, stripping him of whatever it was that made him look deceptively round and cute at times. There was little round about him at all - not the line of his jaw or the rise of his cheekbones, not the hint of muscle at his chest and stomach.

Yuzuru took care as he got into bed, not to put weight or knock his ankle excessively. Shoma noticed how gingerly he was moving, glancing down towards Yuzuru’s feel. They had removed the strapping to let the ankle breathe. It wasn’t swelling excessively, but it was tender.

“Does it hurt?” Shoma asked, bringing his eyes back up the Yuzuru’s face.

“Yeah,” Yuzuru said honestly. He settled on his side, facing Shoma. “It held up. I have time to rest it before the gala.” Yuzuru sighed, letting his hips roll forward and his hand find a home on Shoma’s waist. “I’m sorry for not telling you earlier.”

“I know.” Shoma sighed, shifting so he was more on his back, letting Yuzuru tuck in close to his side, one arm snaking beneath him so his fingers could stroke Yuzuru’s back. It took some arranging, for them to both be comfortable, but they got there. Shoma’s fingertips tripped up the line of Yuzuru’s spine. “It’s weird hearing you in interviews now, talking about it. It makes me wonder when you were going to tell me.”

“I guess I didn’t think that part through,” Yuzuru murmured, adjusting his arm where it was throw across Shoma’s chest to curl his fingers at the base of Shoma’s neck. “I was going to tell you. I just didn’t know when would be the right time.”

“Right from the beginning would’ve been good.” Shoma looked at Yuzuru, tired and frustrated. “I opened up to you and you shut me out. It feels like you don’t trust me and I don’t know what to do with that.”

“I trust you,” Yuzuru said gently. Shoma gave him a look. “I do. I wasn’t thinking I had to keep things from you because you’re my rival. I didn’t want to pile more weight on your shoulders--”

“Then you don’t trust me with my own feelings, or my ability to handle yours,” Shoma huffed. “That’s not better.”

“I didn’t think about it like that.” Yuzuru lowered his eyes, staring at where his hand rested against Shoma’s skin. It didn’t feel like enough to apologise over and over. He needed Shoma to understand why, even if that didn’t excuse the lie, he could explain it. But that was hard. He would have to own up to a lot of things he was used to hiding from everyone. Stuff he only talked about to his mother, Tracy and Brain. No one else. Javier could pick up on his mood day to day, but he didn't know the depths Yuzuru could reach. No one did.

That was the point. Yuzuru was so used to closing off parts of himself he didn’t want others to see that he forgot how important it was to give up all those little pieces. Shoma had given those parts of himself to Yuzuru, bit by bit, but Yuzuru kept on hiding. Yuzuru took a shuddering breath.

“I get depressed. When things like this happen. I feel pathetic because I should be able to deal with injuries and move on but it’s hard for me. I feel like I’m a burden so I don’t want to reach out to people.” Yuzuru let his eyes raise, feeling shy and exposed. But Shoma smiled at him, sleepy but sweet and encouraging. That made it feel better. Easier. “Talking to you was nice because it felt normal. I didn’t want to ruin it.” Yuzuru sniffed. “I should’ve told you.”

“It’s okay,” Shoma whispered, stilted, unsure about what he was saying. “Even if you don’t want to talk, just let me know. When you do want to talk, I’ll be there to listen.”

Yuzuru nodded, bringing his hand up to skim Shoma’s jaw. When he nudged closer for a kiss, Shoma met him without hesitation. It was the kind of kiss Yuzuru had wanted all day; slow and soft and lingering. Not entirely chaste, but unhurried and weighted with emotion as well as attraction. This was the kind of thing he had wanted earlier when they fought. Something close and sweet. He let Shoma’s lips fall away from his and whispered against his cheek. “I love you.”

Shoma pulled his body closer, mumbling against Yuzuru’s mouth. “I love you too.”

The kiss that followed was inevitable. Yuzuru’s eyes slipped shut. Everything felt liquid. Dreamlike. Shoma holding his neck with the gentlest touch, mouth warm and soft against his. It’s a little awkward, laying on their sides and trying to fit their bodies together, but it was _good_ . Shoma sucked at Yuzuru’s bottom lip, sending a shudder rocking through him. Yuzuru let his hand drift down Shoma’s chest, a firm touch, feeling him the way he had wanted to for _months_.

Yuzuru slung his leg over Shoma’s hip, drawing their bodies closer. He rolled more onto his back, guiding Shoma to lie above him, over him, hips between his thighs. They broke, breathing against each other wetly. Shoma propped himself up on his forearms, looking down at Yuzuru. His cheeks were flushed down his jaw, Yuzuru couldn’t resist pressing kisses there.

“Is this okay?” Yuzuru murmured, lips brushing against Shoma’s jaw. Shoma arched his neck and sighed when Yuzuru took the offer, mouthing at the skin below his ear.

“Yeah,” Shoma breathed.

Yuzuru smiled, drawing back slightly. His fingers flexed at the back of Shoma’s neck. “Do you want to go further?”

“Yeah.” Shoma caught Yuzuru’s lips again, briefly. “Do you?”

Yuzuru lifted his hips, out as well as he could without using his legs for leverage, as an answer. Shoma made a soft, punched-out sound. “Okay. Okay. Clothes.”

Yuzuru laughed breathlessly, letting his back melt back into the bed, let’s his arms fall away so Shoma could draw himself up onto his knees.

His heart hammered, breath coming out harshly, when Shoma peeled the t-shirt off him and tossed it to the floor. Anticipation tight and low in his belly, when Shoma teased his chest with his fingertips, teeth worrying his lip. It had really been too long, since Yuzuru had been touched. Every stroke seemed so much _more_ that Yuzuru had ever remembered. Maybe he was too worked up, maybe he had left it too long since he had given his body any kind of release, but he was sensitive and trembling with every touch. He arched up into Shoma’s hand, when he traced Yuzuru’s nipple.

“That’s good?” Shoma asked, amused.

“Yeah,” Yuzuru gasped, Shoma’s thumb rubbing over the nipple again, just to see Yuzuru’s response. Yuzuru made a quiet, desperate sound when he teased the sensitive skin with his nail. He struggled to keep his eyes open, looking up at Shoma, lifting his hips again in a silent request to keep going.

Shoma ran his down, holding Yuzuru’s hips, pausing.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Yuzuru slid his hands over Shoma’s guiding them down. Shoma hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his underwear. His eyes flickered up to Yuzuru’s face, as one as check it was okay and peeled the cloth down. Yuzuru raised his hips again, to make it easier, and watched when Shoma left the bed to wiggle out of his shorts.

There was a pause, once Shoma crawled back onto the bed, taking up his previous spot kneeling between Yuzuru’s legs. They had seen each other naked before, aroused before, but not like this. Not in person. Yuzuru’s eyes traced over the curve of Shoma’s thighs, the bruise at his hip from where he had fallen in his program, the softness of his belly.

They touched tentatively. Shoma’s hands skittering up Yuzuru’s thighs; Yuzuru stroking up Shoma’s waist, drawing him in close. Kissing was familiar, comfortable, a touch-stone that they fall into, facilitating bolder touches. Yuzuru gripped at Shoma’s back, moaning as Shoma lowered himself against his body.

Yuzuru let Shoma set the pace, though it was hard to resist the urge to roll his hips up with the way Shoma was licking into his mouth. But it was better, to have Shoma slowly grind against him. If Yuzuru had his way, it wouldn't last long. He was already gasping, making high, needy sounds from the back of his throat. Embarrassingly close, embarrassingly fast.

Shoma gripped Yuzuru’s forearm, urging him to lower his hand to the bed. He slid his palm against Yuzuru’s interlocking their fingers. Foreheads pressed together. It was almost overwhelming how close and intimate it felt, bodies moving together, whispering sighs of pleasure against each other’s lips.

Yuzuru squeezed his hand, unable to keep his eyes open. His leg wound around Shoma’s hip, tensing to pull him down, closer. Faster.

Yuzuru groaned, maybe too loud, as his resolve failed and he came, shuddering against Shoma as he eased him through it. Shoma followed, helped by Yuzuru’s hand, spilling warm onto Yuzuru’s stomach, gasping against his neck. They stayed like that, coming down from the high, trading short, tired kisses.

Yuzuru was glad they had waited, even if it had been mostly him stalling this from happening when they last had the chance. It wouldn’t have been right, as good, as intimate, if they had done it earlier. Now they knew where they stood with each other, knew each other’s feelings, knew exactly what it meant for them. Yuzuru still felt like he was floating when Shoma had forced himself up to get a cloth to clean up with. Still sinking into the bed with bone-deep satisfaction, when Shoma tenderly wiped his stomach.

Yuzuru smiled when Shoma settled back down and pulled the sheets over them, pressing one last kiss to his lips. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so happy. So whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only a day or so late lmao  
> enjoy! please leave a comment I'd really appreciate it ;)
> 
> Also yay for Shoma he's only wanted this for like, idk, a year.


	25. Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuzuru celebrates his victory and contemplates happiness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is explicit sexual content in this chapter :)  
> So pop the champagne for Yuzuru because after 3.5 years he's finally getting laid.

**Stars**

 

_Buzz buzz._

Yuzuru groaned and rolled over.  
Awareness trickled into him slowly. First the warmth, the weight of Shoma’s arm around his waist, his chest pressed against Yuzuru’s back, the pleasant haze of sleep clinging to him, even though something was dragging him out of it. Then he registered the annoying, persistent burring that has disturbed him. It took a little while longer to realise that buzzing was his phone on the bedside table. He reached out to grab it, eyes only half open, not that it mattered. There was almost no light in the room at all. Just enough to show the outline of the table, the edges of his phone. Shoma made a small, unhappy sound as Yuzuru moved; still deep in sleep, not wanting the warmth he had been cuddled up to go away. Yuzuru settled back into place with his phone in hand, fumbling to answer it. Shoma nuzzled his face between Yuzuru’s shoulder blades.

“Ngh?”

“Yuzu, where the hell are you?”

Yuzuru squinted, confused. It was too early for English. “Brian?”

“Kobayashi, or whoever, is supposed to pick you up at five but Ghislain tell me you're not in your room,” Brian rattled out, sounding irritated and a lot more awake then Yuzuru. “So where are you? I expect this kind of thing from Javi--”

“What time is it?” Yuzuru whispered, smothering a yawn. “Why are you awake?”

“It’s a little after four,” Brian told him curtly, “I was going to head out to the beach to watch the sunrise, I’ve been told the view of it is very famous here,” Yuzuru grunted softly. Junhwan had been very excited about everyone going to Korea and had spent weeks making little suggestions for things they could do between events. Going to watch the sunrise at Jeongdongjin and Anin or any of the other beaches close to the Olympic Park, the food they could eat, things they could see.

“Never mind that, where are you?” Brian hissed. “Why are you whispering?”

“I’m in Shoma’s room,” Yuzuru mumbled. Shoma shifted behind him, breathing deep and even. “He’s still asleep.”

There was a small pause. “You’re in bed with him?”

“Yeah?”

“ _Yuzuru_!”

“We were playing video games,” Yuzuru lied, voice hushed. “We have to wake up together anyway.”

“Right,” Brian said, clipped. Yuzuru wasn’t sure why he was making excuses, other than he didn’t want to have that conversation with Brian right now. He was too tired. His brain was barely processing English. “You should have told someone where you were.”

“Sorry.”

“I’ll let Kobayashi know so she doesn’t go to the wrong apartment. You should get up soon anyway. If you want to eat before the interview.”

“It’s too early to eat,” Yuzuru grumbled. “But I need to shower…”

Brian chuckled. “Then shower. Give yourself time to wake up properly before you’re shoved in front of cameras.”

Yuzuru yawned, nodding his head even though Brian couldn’t see it. “I’m going to get up now.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Yuzuru repeated, “Enjoy the sunrise.”

Brian chuckled. “Enjoy your interviews.”

Yuzuru reached out lazily to put his phone back on the table. It seemed cruel, to force themselves up at such an early hour the day after the competition. Yuzuru could feel the residual ache in his calves and thighs, hips and back and shoulder when he stretched out in bed. He’d prefer to doze all day, play games, hang out with Shoma and Keiji and Ryuichi. Relax after months of preparation and weeks of hard training for those two days of competition. But they had to get up for something of a mini-media tour. A few of Japan’s broadcasters had sent out reports and TV crews to set up camp at the various media centres, and there were people from magazines and newspapers as well, who would want something to run now the competition was done. It was a big deal that Japan had won the gold and the silver for the men’s event. They would want to celebrate that, congratulate them. So, they would bounce from one temporary studio to another, from one room of people with cameras and microphones to the next. Being a winner came with responsibilities. They couldn’t just be athletes who came out to compete and went away once their job was done. They were representatives of their country, representatives of their sport, public figures with duties. Yuzuru was used to that, Shoma had a taste of it and was adjusting to it. It would be better this time, easier because they’d be doing it together.

At least they’d get to sit down for most of it.

Yuzuru turned carefully, dislodging Shoma’s arm around his waist.  He looked sweet, his face smushed against the pillow, lips slightly parted. Yuzuru’s eyes adjusted to the dark, the slightest amount of light coming in from the window highlighting the curve of his cheek and the shadow of his lashes.  It was a shame they couldn’t stay like this. Yuzuru wanted to go back to sleep, wait for the sun to rise and wake up to see Shoma like this in the warm glow of the morning light.

“Hey--” Yuzuru said softly, just loud enough to make Shoma stir without being too startling. Shoma’s lashes fluttered. Yuzuru stroked lightly beneath his chin, rousing him from sleep. “We need to wake up.”

Shoma groaned, licking his dry lips and shaking his head. Yuzuru smiled. “We need to shower.”

Shoma opened his eyes blearily. “What time is it?”

Yuzuru hummed. “4:25.”

Shoma’s eyes slid closed again. He nuzzled into Yuzuru’s collar.

Yuzuru laughed. “Okay, I’ll shower first, then I’ll come and wake you up again.”

Shoma sighed against his neck. “Fine.”

 

***

 

Yuzuru felt much more awake after showering and getting dressed. His uniform wasn’t exactly fresh, but it was clean enough for interviews, not creased and didn’t smell, so it was good enough to wear for interviews. He pottered around the kitchen area while Shoma washed and dressed. There wasn’t much they were able to use in the apartments -- a few cups in the cabinets, the fridge but not the hob or the sink. There didn’t need to, considering there were catering halls for everyone. There was, at least, a kettle to boil water in. At some point, Keiji had bought instant coffee and milk and sugar. Yuzuru assumed it was Keiji, anyway.

Shoma shuffled into the room, just about dressed and eyes still half open, hair damp and curling at his forehead.

“I made you coffee.” Yuzuru gestured at the two cups on the side. He didn’t like coffee much, but he needed it this morning.

“Thank you,” Shoma mumbled. He raised himself to his tip-toes and kissed Yuzuru on the cheek before strolling to the fridge for the milk. “You were on the phone before?”

“Ugh, yeah. Brian called wanting to know where I am.”

“Oh.” Yuzuru watched Shoma add milk until his cup was pale and enough sugar to make Yuzuru wince. Shoma sipped the mug to stop it overflowing and hummed in satisfaction. Shoma looked up at him and blinked. “Does he, uh, know...that we’re…?”

Yuzuru shook his head, taking a mouthful of his own drink and grimacing at the bitterness as he swallowed. “No.”

“Huh.” Shoma cocked his head and leaned against the counter.  “I thought you would’ve told him.”

“Why?”

“He’s gay,” Shoma deadpanned. “He’s not exactly going to have a problem with it.”

Yuzuru snorted. Brian probably wouldn’t have a problem with the prospect of them dating, but there was no time where it had felt relevant to tell him. Yuzuru shrugged. “I didn’t want to tell him without checking with you first.” He paused to drink more of his coffee, nose wrinkling. “But, uh, Tracy knows.”

Shoma blew on his mug and hummed. “Ah, that’s why she keeps smiling at me.”

“She smiles at everyone.”

Shoma gave him a sideways look, hands cradling his coffee cup. “You can tell your coaches, I don’t mind.”

“Have you told Mihoko?”

“No,” Shoma said. “I figured you wouldn’t want me to.”

“You can. If you want to. If you trust her.” Yuzuru took a deep breath, sipping his coffee before it cooled. It felt like a risk, letting Mihoko know, with her being so much more closely tied to the federation than Brian. But he trusted Shoma’s judgement, he had to put some faith in Shoma and show that he believed that Shoma would make the right choice. Yuzuru knew how important that was to him. And, if little else, Yuzuru knew Mihoko loved Shoma like a son. She wouldn’t do anything to hurt him.

“I think she might suspect something,” Shoma admitted, glancing at Yuzuru almost guiltily.

“Why?”

“I’ve had a crush on you since I was 16,” Shoma said with a roll of his eyes as if it were obvious. “I’m sure she’s noticed that something has changed.”

“Really, since you were 16?” Yuzuru grinned, trying to think back to try to spot any signs he never picked up on at the time. Shoma had been shy with him. He was shy with everyone then. Maybe the way Shoma reached out to him was the sign. Their paths didn’t cross a lot, but when they did, Shoma was making fumbling attempts to support him, while he tried to make Shoma more familiar. It was funny to think about. Yuzuru nudged Shoma’s side playfully. “Was I your first crush?”

“No.” Shoma looked away, but Yuzuru could still see his cheeks starting to pink.

“Let me guess…” Yuzuru teased. “Daisuke.”

Shoma turned back to him with a pout. “Shut up.”

“That’s adorable.” Yuzuru sniggered. He wondered if maybe he should feel jealous, but he didn’t. Daisuke was so much older, an idol to Shoma. Not a threat.

“Did you have a crush on Plushenko?” Shoma shot back grumpily. “If you did you have awful taste.”

“Ew, no.” Yuzuru laughed, setting his mug down on the counter behind him and moving to stand in front of Shoma. Most of his baby fat was gone, the cute chubby cheeks Yuzuru used to enjoy poking and pinching were gone, but that didn’t mean Yuzuru couldn't cup Shoma’s face in his hands and press his cheeks together. Just a little bit. “My taste must be fine because I’m with you.”

“Ugh,” Shoma grunted, rolling his eyes. “Gross.”

Yuzuru leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to Shoma’s mouth, careful not to knock where his hands still nursed his mug of coffee. Shoma’s lips tasted sweet.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Yuzuru scrambled to answer.

“Hm, yes I heard you were here,” Kobayashi remarked as she stepped inside, enough to peer around where Shoma was hurriedly finishing his drink. “Time to go.”

 

***

 

Doing all of the media obligations was made far more enjoyable by being able to do them with Shoma. Yuzuru didn’t have to carry a whole interview by himself, had someone to bounce off and talk to backstage. But there was a point where they had to separate - Shoma needed to pack, Yuzuru had a few interviews alone and had to treat his ankle and get some clean clothes.

Ghislain watched while Yuzuru emptied out the training bag he had lugged around the day before and repacked with fresh clothes.

“You’re staying with friends again tonight?”

“Yeah,” Yuzuru said, trying not to look embarrassed as his fingers brushed the corner of the box on condoms and bottle of lube that had been floating around his bag, totally forgotten, since Keiji had thrown them at him. He cleared his throat, pushing them to the side of his bag. “We were too tired to celebrate yesterday, so we’re going to play games together…”

“Sounds wild,” Ghislain joked. “You deserve to celebrate. Go nuts.”

Yuzuru bobbed his head, smiling. He had a rest day before practices for the gala started, and a lot of the skaters not invited to the gala would be leaving. It was his last chance to have fun with Keiji and Ryuichi in Korea. He zipped up his bag and said his goodbyes before scurrying away. The time he was free to spend with friends was precious. He didn’t know how soon he’d get the chance again.

“You’re here!” Keiji beamed, opening the door for Yuzuru to come in. As soon as he stepped inside, he was hit with the sweet, salty smell of junk food. Keiji closed the door and gestured for Yuzuru to go in further. “We got McDonald’s.”

Yuzuru took a deep breath. He couldn’t gorge himself, but fries were calling his name. “Hang on let me throw my bag in Shoma’s room.”

Keiji went to take his place with the others, and Yuzuru scuttered to Shoma’s room, yelling out hello in passing, to rid himself on his overnight bag, then went back to the little dining table everyone was sitting at. He sat down in the seat next to Shoma and looked at the bags on the table expectantly.

“So...What’ve we got?”

Ryuichi smiled. “ _Everything_ .”

Everything was a bit of an overstatement, but they had bought something for everyone. Keiji handed out drinks and opened the bags of food. Shoma claimed a box of nuggets, Yuzuru took the portion of fries meant for him. He also took responsibility for Shoma’s while he was preoccupied with tearing the foils off all of the sauces. Yuzuru eyed the selection of burgers and plucked out a plain cheeseburger for himself, not wanting anything too big. Burgers weren’t his favourite.

He nudged Shoma, holding up the burger in its wrapper. He didn’t feel like eating a whole one on his own.  “Go halves with me?”

Shoma shrugged. “Sure”

For a moment, they just ate. Yuzuru tore his burger in half about as neatly and evenly as possible and gave a section to Shoma while Keiji and Ryuichi merrily dug into their own. Usually, Yuzuru wouldn’t dare to eat junk food while he still had to skate, but the gala was a few days away. One indulgence wouldn’t ruin him. It wasn’t that he was concerned about weight gain, he exercised enough to justify the occasional trip to McDonald’s; even if the greasy, salty goodness made him feel heavy and sluggish. He supposed a gold medal was a good reason for a treat.

“Do you think you’re going to do Worlds?” Ryuichi asked, setting his burger down in favour of grabbing some of his fries.

Yuzuru groaned. He was trying not to think about it. “I don’t know. If I can, I will, but I don’t think so.” He shrugged. The truth was, his ankle had barely been in condition for this competition. If it hadn’t been the Olympics, he would have skipped it. Part of him knew that World’s wasn’t an option, but it was difficult to accept. He felt a responsibility to go and keep Japan’s 3 spots secure. If he didn’t go, they could lose a spot. But they could also lose it if he skated on a bust ankle and performed terribly. Yuzuru sighed. “I need to get my ankle checked first.”

“Are you gonna go straight back to Toronto?” Keiji asked.

Yuzuru shook his head, hastily swallowing the last of his burger. “No, I’ll go home for a bit first.” He turned to Shoma, giving him a nudge with his foot under the table. “I might visit you if I have time if it’s okay with your parents.”

“Mom already said you can visit any time,” Shoma said, brushing his hands to rid himself of burger residue. Yuzuru smiled. There had been an awkward moment after the medal ceremony where their families had converged to congratulate each other. Shoma’s mother had essentially invited Yuzuru to spend a few days with Shoma ‘whenever possible’, and Yuzuru was pretty sure his own mother had extended a similar invitation.

“Maybe in the summer,” Yuzuru mused. He had no idea how long he’d stay in Japan if he would be busy or if he would ever go back to Toronto to train. He had no idea of anything. Nothing could really be determined until he got his ankle checked. At best, he’d do rehab all summer. At worst, he’d be in Japan permanently trying to figure out what to do with himself in a world where he couldn’t skate. Yuzuru wanted to operate believing the former could happen, even if the fear of his ankle being permanently damaged weighed heavy in his mind. He smiled at Shoma sweetly.  “If you go to Canada again you should come and visit me too.”

Shoma smiled sweetly. “I’ll try.”

The conversation lapsed and then moved on. Yuzuru happily dunked fries into his ketchup pot and enjoyed the fizziness of his cola, chiming in enthusiastically as they talked about movies and games and plans for the summer.

Yuzuru eyed Shoma, contentedly munching his way through the box of nuggets, and lightly kicked his foot under the table, hissing “You’re hogging the nuggets.”

Shoma eyes flicked over to him, playfully scuffing Yuzuru’s foot in return. “You’re hogging the fries.”

Yuzuru plucked some from their box and brought them to Shoma’s lips, pausing for a moment before Shoma realised Yuzuru intended to feed them to him. Shoma opened his mouth and took them, looking utterly pleased.

“You could have just taken some,” Yuzuru pointed out, faking a grumble.

Shoma licked his lips. “But now I know you’ll feed them to me.”

Yuzuru’s lips twitched, He leaned to gently nudge Shoma with his elbow, putting on a little bit of a cute whine into his voice. “Give me a nugget.”

Shoma smirked and popped a nugget into Yuzuru’s waiting mouth. Yuzuru made a happy little noise, eyes turning up into crescents while he chewed and fed Shoma a few more fries for his effort.

“Are you packed?” Ryuichi asked Shoma, not particularly phased by his friends feeding each other across the table.

Shoma hummed. “Pretty much. I can finish in the morning. You?”

“You’re leaving?” Yuzuru asked, a bit confused. He knew Shoma was heading back to Japan for a few days, though he wasn’t really sure why, but he didn’t know anyone else was leaving with him.

“Yeah,” Keiji said, delicately peeling a pickle off his burger bun. “We’re going to Seoul for a couple of days.”

“Sightseeing, shopping, eating loads of food…” Ryuichi grinned.

Yuzuru pouted. “You’ll be back for the closing ceremony though, right?”

“Yeah, we’ll be back,” Ryuichi said, swirling his coke with his straw. “We’re really going because there a rink in Seoul we can train in. It’s not going to be all fun. I really need all the ice time I can get.”

They all hummed, understanding. Skating as a pair was difficult because some things took time to develop - trust, being in sync with each other, learning the language of expression the other used. It wasn’t as simple as knowing the music, knowing the steps and doing the elements. You had to work well as a team. Two people making one whole.

“I’ll be back for gala practices,” Shoma told Yuzuru brightly. Yuzuru smiled and opened his mouth expectantly. Shoma rolled his eyes and fed him another nugget.

“Why are you even bothering to go home two days?” Ryuichi asked, muffled by his fries.

“I need to do laundry,” Shoma replied breezily, dunking another piece of chicken into sauce and dropping it into Yuzuru’s waiting mouth. “And pick up my gala costume.”

Yuzuru swallowed hastily. “You didn’t bring it with you?”

“Japan is a 3-hour flight away,” Shoma said with a little shrug and wiped away a stray bit of sauce from the side of Yuzuru’s mouth.

When all the food was utterly demolished, Ryuichi and Shoma were tasked with setting up something so they could game together while Keiji and Yuzuru tidied away the wrappers and cleaned away the crumbs.

“I wish I could go with you,” Yuzuru pouted at Keiji, ginger peeling a sticky sauce wrapper off the table. “Seoul sounds fun.”

“I’ll send you pictures.” Keiji looked up from where he was flattening all the pieces of cardboard for recycling. “That reminds me; have you messages Kanako? She’s complained to me that you’ve not talked to her in a while.”

Yuzuru cringed. It was kind of the nature of a lot of Yuzuru’s friendships. Sometimes contact dropped in and out depending on where he was in the season, what he was doing, where he was mentally. He hadn’t talked to her while his injury had been causing him a lot of stress, because he hadn’t been telling Shoma and she most definitely would have mentioned it to him. He regretted that now. She would have pointed out what an awful idea it was to hide things.

“If I do manage to spend a few days in Nagoya, I’ll make sure I see her. I miss her.” Yuzuru leaned over the table to toss the trash from his side into the bag next to Keiji. “Have you talked to Nobu much?”

“Yeah! I wanted to invite him to hang out, but he’s actually working here so...”

“I saw him after the medal ceremony and he was still crying.” Yuzuru laughed, taking a cloth to wipe down the table. “He’s the only person who cried more than me.”

“I didn’t cry, but I am really happy for you.” Keiji’s gaze wandered over to Shoma. “Both of you.”

Yuzuru let go of the cloth, moving to put a hand on Keiji’s forearm. “We were a great team.”

Keiji nodded, letting out a deep breath. He didn’t complain, but Yuzuru knew it was frustrating for him to see his friends shoot up the ranks while he struggled to progress. He never had the kind of breakthrough Shoma had, or the rapid progress Yuzuru made. He grew, but it was slow and steady. Enough to meet them on the podium at nationals, enough to get to worlds and the Olympics, but he always seemed to be trailing behind them. Yuzuru had always wished that Keiji would have that moment things just clicked and suddenly he was a medal contender at any competition. It sucked that it never happened, but that didn’t diminish Keiji’s value. Yuzuru wasn’t really sure how to express that adequately without it seeming backhanded.

Shoma lifted his head and looked back at the two of them, and urged them to hurry up with an impatient gesture.

The four of them sat, sprawled on the floor with their backs against the sofa that was far too small to seat them all, playing games and teasing each other for losses or mistakes.

“I can tell you really didn’t play for four months,” Shoma cajoled at Yuzuru. “You suck now.”

“We can’t all have side gigs as a pro gamer,” Yuzuru joked.

After a day of bouncing from interview to another and being Yuzuru The Athlete, The Pride of Japan, and the new role of Consecutive Gold Medalist it was a sweet relief to be none of those things. To be a bit humbled. To simply be a guy eating junk food and playing video games with his friends. Until Keiji stepped up to be the adult of the group and decided it was too late to continue when they had an early morning KTX to catch the next day.

Yuzuru leaned in close to Shoma’s ear on the way to the bedroom, whispering “What time do you have to get up?”

“My flight isn’t until the afternoon,” Shoma whispered back, not sure why they were being quiet.

“So you don’t have to wake up early.”

Shoma seemed to click at why Yuzuru was pressing him, his lip curled into a shy kind of smirk. “No. I don’t.”

Yuzuru felt his heart beat a little faster. He knew what he wanted, while they were both here and there was nothing in the way -- no practice looming, no competition, no excuses. He had thought about it last night; thought about it all morning, as he showered when he packed his back and while they ate. He’d been kind of relieved when Keiji called time on their gaming session because it meant he could finally be alone. With Shoma. In his bedroom.

“I guess we don’t have to sleep straight away then.”

 

***

 

Yuzuru giggled, taking Shoma’s hand and leading him into the bedroom, letting the door shut behind them. They maybe made it halfway to the bed before Yuzuru turned back to see Shoma’s smile, the pink in his cheeks, and tugged him close to kiss him. He loved the way he had to angle himself down to catch Shoma’s lips, the way Shoma raised himself on his toes slightly to meet him and the immediate flush of excitement that followed. They both wanted this and knew that they were on the same page. The awkwardness of uncertainty was completely missing for the first time possibly ever. Yuzuru could kiss Shoma with nothing held back, one giddy kiss after another.

There were no more reasons for Yuzuru to be worried about crossing that line. No other person on the edge of Yuzuru’s mind. Only Shoma nipping at his lips, grinning breathlessly against his mouth, slipping his hands up underneath Yuzuru’s shirt without pausing for confirmation. The taboo around sex had been broken already, leaving it open as an area they could explore together. Yuzuru tangled his fingers in the hair at the back of Shoma’s head and kissed him deeply, relishing the freedom of it, knowing they wouldn’t stop. The happiness he had been riding on all day only rising higher at feeling Shoma’s hands on him and knowing that everything he felt, all that giddy joy and desire, was matched in equal measure. He wanted Shoma. And Shoma wanted him. Nothing else mattered.

They clumsily walked back towards the bed still entangled, pausing for air to pull each other’s t-shirts over their heads and drawing back together. Yuzuru’s skin tingled pleasantly at the way their chests brushed together, eyes sliding shut and head tilting back automatically while Shoma mouthed at his jaw. The arousal was immediate, like flicking on a switch, but it wasn’t the intense kind that seemed to throb dark and deep. There was a lightness, a sense of fun that was just as immediate, but instead of overriding Yuzuru’s joy, it simply melded with it. More like an expression of his happiness, a tool to focus it in a different direction.

Yuzuru couldn’t remember if he had ever been so hyped up for sex before. Maybe it was because it had been so long, that was why he was so excited. He had certainly been thrilled to have sex with Javier every time they had, he was definitely enthusiastic, but this was a completely different feeling. The circumstances were so different. Shoma was so different. Their relationship and where they stood with each other so utterly different from where Yuzuru had been with Javier that the experience couldn’t compare. Part of it may have been simply the prospect of having sex after having nothing so such a long time, like coming off an incredibly strict diet and immediately being presented with a slice of cake. Only Shoma wasn’t some temptation that had been hidden away from months in a cupboard. So much of what Yuzuru felt was because it was Shoma. Someone he loved, who loved him back, who had been patient and understanding when he hadn’t been ready to do this before. He wanted so much to feel Shoma come undone with him, to see him, to make him feel good. The night before had been like a taste, but there had been nerves lingering on the edge of every touch. Yuzuru wanted all of that stripped away.

He remembered when Shoma had said he had wanted to be with Yuzuru and have nothing else in his thoughts. To enjoy every second without restraint. Yuzuru felt his stomach flip, realising that moment was finally here. He slid his hands down the smooth skin of Shoma’s back and cupped his butt, both of them giggling when he gave it a squeeze.

Yuzuru’s feet knocked against his bag on the next step back. He had almost forgotten that he had slung it next to the bed when he had come in. It was a good reminder, as difficult as it was to take his hands off Shoma and peel himself away. Yuzuru bent down to open his bag and fished out the condoms and lube from where he had stashed them that morning and placed them on the bed. The lube was a necessity. The condom more a formality than anything, given how often they were subject to blood tests. Sex was messy. Anything that helped make it less messy was a good idea.

“Oh,” Shoma grinned, his nose wrinkled and eyes teasing. “You came prepared this time.”

Yuzuru nodded, biting down on his bottom lip coyly. Now seemed as good a time as any to clarify what exactly they were here for. “You...want this?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” Yuzuru slid his arms around Shoma’s neck, pressing himself full-bodied against him.  “Me too.” He muttered it against Shoma’s lips, trading a few playful nips before kissing him deeply. He could feel Shoma half-hard against him, and it made Yuzuru want this all the more. They broke for air. Yuzuru whispered in his ear, words feeling thick on his tongue, “What do you want to do?”

Shoma groaned softly. “Anything.”

Yuzuru laughed, notching his face against Shoma’s neck. “I want you to fuck me,” Yuzuru mumbled against Shoma’s neck, smiling at how Shoma’s hands tightened on his waist in response. He lifted his head, cheeks pink from the frank admission but glad he got it out there.  “Is that okay?”

Shoma blinked. “Y-yeah.” Yuzuru could see some nervousness, a hint of apprehension, creep into Shoma’s eyes. He tilted his head as if to ask ‘ _are you sure?_ ’ Yuzuru wanted to badly, but if Shoma wasn’t ready, there were plenty of other things they could do. Shoma bit his lip, looking up at Yuzuru a bit embarrassed. “I’ve never done that before.”

“It’s okay,” Yuzuru told him gently, lifting a hand to stroke through Shoma’s hair, brushing it back from his forehead. “We don’t have to--”

“I want to,” Shoma burst out. Yuzuru smiled, suppressing to urge to giggle.

“We’ll figure it out.” Yuzuru ran a finger over Shoma’s cheek, hoping he sounded reassuring. “I can do most of the work?”

Shoma blinked again and nodded his head minutely. Yuzuru laughed and kissed him again.

There was some nervousness from both of them as they stripped off the rest of their clothes, but Yuzuru’s hands were mostly trembling from excitement. He reined that in though, forced himself not to rush the way he wanted to, kept kisses light and touches in places that were safe. His fingers trailed over Shoma’s chest. He felt the muscles hidden beneath soft skin, felt Shoma moan into his mouth while his thumbs teased dark nipples. Yuzuru loved that; hearing Shoma moan, not holding back or trying to quiet himself. Yuzuru wanted to draw Shoma out as much as possible.

His hands stopped at Shoma’s hip and stroked soothing circles into Shoma’s skin until the nervous tension dissipated. Only when he felt like Shoma was comfortable did he let his hand drop lower. Shoma buried his face against the crook of Yuzuru’s neck and groaned, mimicking the action. His palm brushed over Yuzuru’s navel and continued it’s decent.

Yuzuru led Shoma back onto the bed until he was reclining against the pillows. Yuzuru crawled onto his lap, his thighs bracketed Shoma’s hips. Shoma looked up at him, chewing on his lip again. Yuzuru smiled, arms circling his shoulders, stalling. They could lose themselves in kisses, slow themselves down and have time to settle without losing the momentum of their arousal. Yuzuru couldn’t help but rock himself down, feel Shoma hard against his ass, and moan at the heat that careened through his body. He had thought about this; on the video calls when they watched each other touch themselves, that morning in the shower when he had packed his bag, and his fingers had brushed over the box of condoms, while they played video games with Shoma’s thigh pressed against his.

 

“Like this,” Yuzuru whispered, stroking Shoma’s neck. A light touch, but enough pressure that Shoma wouldn’t find it ticklish or uncomfortable. Shoma nodded and let out a sigh. His body shifted under Yuzuru to get more comfortable. Yuzuru pressed his lips to Shoma’s forehead. “I want you like this.”

Yuzuru's eyes stayed on Shoma, looking for signs that he wanted to stop while he reached for the lube. As he uncapped it. Even while he took Shoma's hand and poured lube onto his fingers. The whole time, Shoma stared back, unwavering.

Yuzuru guided Shoma's hand back, behind him, urging him to touch where Yuzuru wanted him.

 

“Go slow.”

Shoma licked his lips and nodded. Yuzuru winced at the press of the first finger. The first time in a long time Yuzuru had been touched like that. Not painful, but uncomfortable.

It doesn’t take long before Yuzuru is holding onto the tops of Shoma’s shoulders, breathing heavy through his nose, biting down on his lower lip. Yuzuru had thought maybe Shoma would need some instruction, but he apparently did not need any help at all. The nerves were gone, replaced with a confidence Yuzuru hadn’t seen coming but enjoyed. Shoma had seemingly taken the request to go slow as an invitation to tease, pushing a second finger into Yuzuru’s body, moving them in and out at a languid pace, making Yuzuru curse.

Whenever Yuzuru had sex before, this part was perfunctory. A means to an end, something that had to be done to get to the good part. Shoma obviously had a different perspective. He curled his fingers like he knew what he was looking for. Yuzuru shivered and let out a weak moan. “You’ve done this before.”

“A few times,” Shoma said with a smirk. “Only on myself.”

Yuzuru shuddered out a breath. It was nice to hear Shoma laugh, relaxed and sure of what he was doing, pleased with Yuzuru’s response. Yuzuru almost smiled, but then Shoma added another finger and all Yuzuru could do was mewl.

“Okay, okay,” Yuzuru panted. “That’s enough.”

Everything was a fumble after that. Getting the condoms, laughing when they realised Yuzuru hadn’t broken the seal on the box, so he had to pick at the annoying sellotape. Laughing again when Yuzuru tore open the foil to find the condoms were bright pink. The giggles subsided, though, when Yuzuru rolled the condom down onto Shoma, giving him a few strokes for good measure before aligning their bodies. Shoma’s eyes fluttered closed, arms fidgeting by his side like he wasn’t sure what to do with them.

“Open your eyes,” Yuzuru breathed. “Look at me.”

Yuzuru didn't often give much thought to his looks, he didn’t indulge in vanity all that often but if there were ever a suitable time and place for some pride, it was now. Yuzuru could never deny that he liked being watched, that was part of why performing and competing such a draw for him. And he wasn’t dumb, although he had cringed at his gangliness as a teen and felt insecure that his face was plain when he was younger, he knew that others found him attractive. Beautiful. He had grown into his limbs, his features refined and his figure improved over time.

For a moment he allowed himself to imagine how he looked through Shoma’s eyes; pink lips parted and damp, head tilted back, long pale neck exposed, flushed down his chest and gasping while he lowered himself down onto Shoma. Where were his eyes drawn to? Yuzuru’s long, lean torso, taut abs and tapered waist that flared in an illusion of curves where his muscles became more dense? Or were his eyes fixed on the thighs he was holding onto and skimming with his fingertips? Or maybe where Yuzuru’s erection curled up towards his belly, twitching as Shoma slid in deeper.

Yuzuru looked down and his breath caught in his throat. Shoma’s eyes were roving over him intently, slowly rising to Yuzuru’s face, the raspberry coloured flush creeping up his jaw. Fully seated on Shoma’s lap, Yuzuru leaned back, arching and ran his hand down the length of Shoma’s chest, down past his navel. Shoma gave a shuddery moan.

That was the best part, Yuzuru thought. Not only the feeling of someone’s eyes on him, not imagining what they saw, but seeing the response flicker across Shoma’s face and knowing he was the cause. He was the reason Shoma’s eyes were so dark and heavy-lidded, why his lips were bitten red, and his belly quivered under Yuzuru’s hand.

Shoma’s fingers flexed at Yuzuru’s thighs at the first few tentative rocks of his hips, nails biting into the skin.

“Good?” Yuzuru asked, the tremble in his voice betraying him.

“Ngh,” Shoma grunted, sliding his hands up to Yuzuru’s hips. “I want to kiss you.”

Yuzuru smiled, shifting his weight forward to bring himself closer and pecked Shoma’s lips. Shoma grumbled, straining up to kiss Yuzuru more fully. It was difficult to think, with Shoma’s tongue in his mouth and hands stroking over Yuzuru’s thighs and hips and back, but he had enough concentration to move. Slow, shallow motions, feeling Shoma inside him. Yuzuru pulled back to watch the first flickers of pleasure play on Shoma’s face, pleased to find Shoma’s chocolate brown eyes fighting to stay open.

“You’re beautiful,” Yuzuru mumbled.

Shoma giggled. “I was going to say that.”

Yuzuru raised himself on his thighs and languidly fell back down, building up a rhythm to go a little faster. He tried to put most of his weight on his knees for leverage, but his ankles bearing some of the pressure was inevitable. If it hurt, Yuzuru wasn’t aware of it. All he could feel was Shoma. Skin against skin.  Hands-on Yuzuru’s hips, no longer trembling or lightly drifting up to his waist and down again, but gripping the curve.

“I like that,” Yuzuru gasped. It felt so good. Everything. Shoma’s hands on it. Sparks of pleasure every time he moved. “I like when you hold me tight.”

Shoma’s grip tightened. One hand on Yuzuru’s hip, one hand holding onto his waist. Yuzuru let out a shaky moan. He felt Shoma move, edging his hand forward to wrap around Yuzuru’s erection. He shook his head. It was too soon. He wouldn’t last. It had been too long. Felt too good.

“ _Don’t_ ,” Yuzuru whined. “Don’t touch me yet.”

Shoma withdrew, going back to holding his hip as if he was guiding Yuzuru down onto him, mouthing at his jaw. Yuzuru moved faster, struggling to keep his eyes open. How had he gone so long without this? Clearly, he was crazy.

Yuzuru’s thighs burned. Sweat prickled on his skin, thighs feeling slick with it where they met Shoma’s. But it was the best ache; deep and trembling, tight in his belly. He gasped for air, looking down at Shoma squirming under him. His honey coloured skin darkened and shimmering, hair curling at his temple, lips parted so sweet, high sounds slipping out. Shoma seemed only to get more active, hands wandering up Yuzuru’s chest, down his back, gripping his ass, holding just beneath his shoulder blades to pull him forward so they could kiss opened-mouthed and messy. It was amazing to see Shoma’s inhibitions fall away, one by one. Not thinking. Only feeling. Doing what felt right. Soaking in the moment.

Shoma bent his knee to get some purchase on the bed and lifted his hips to meet Yuzuru on a downstroke. Yuzuru made and embarrassingly loud, needy sound.   

“Like that?” Shoma thrust upwards again. For what he lacked in leverage he made up for in sheer will and strength.

“ _Yes_ ,” Yuzuru keened, altering his position slightly to seek a better angle so when Shoma lifted his hips again he nearly choked on air. His nails dug into Shoma’s biceps. “ _Please_ , keep going.”

 

Yuzuru was frantic, finding a rhythm that was hard and fast, Shoma’s hand tight on him every time he raised his hips from the bed, the other snaking up to wrap around Yuzuru’s cock. Both of them worked together, both giving and taking, chasing that high together. Shoma’s teeth scraped against Yuzuru’s neck, thumb swiping over where Yuzuru was leaking before stroking him fast. If they had been trying to be quiet, that flew right out the window. Yuzuru gasped, moans getting higher and closer together and louder until the pleasure crested and he came, shuddering in Shoma’s hands.

“Now you,” Yuzuru whispered, voice wrecked. He pressed his lips to Shoma’s forehead and rocked his hips back, picking up some of the speed he lost when his orgasm took over. Yuzuru whimpered. He felt raw and oversensitive, his body twitching when he moved, but it still felt good.

Shoma gasped into Yuzuru’s neck. “I’m close.”

“I know. It’s okay. Let go.”

Shoma held onto Yuzuru’s back and snapped his hips hard and fast, rendering Yuzuru unable to do much but brace himself, mouth hanging open, and gasp for air. Shoma came, holding Yuzuru down against him, with a high sound that made Yuzuru flush. Yuzuru tipped Shoma’s head up, smiling at the blissed-out haze in his eyes, and kissed him.

They collapsed onto the bed, splayed out loose and satisfied. Yuzuru stared at the ceiling blankly, trying to remember how to breathe. His heart hammered in his chest, hair sticking to his forehead. He was numbly aware of Shoma shuffling off to the side before collapsing next to him. He turned to face Shoma, who looked back at him with a dopey grin.

“We should do that again,” Shoma said breathlessly.

Yuzuru groaned. “Give me a few minutes.”

Shoma snorted, shuffling closer to cuddle up to Yuzuru’s side. Yuzuru smiled, leaning into him and taking his hand to thread their fingers together. He closed his eyes, humming happily. Totally caught up in the glow, glad to languish in it with Shoma’s warm body beside him. He cracked open an eye to see if Shoma was still awake, and kissed his cheek. He caught sight of the clock as he did. “Oh. It’s after midnight.”

“Past your bedtime?” Shoma teased. Yuzuru gave him a half-hearted nudge.

“It’s the 18th now,” Yuzuru explained. Shoma looked up at him, brows adorably furrowed. Yuzuru pouted. “It’s our anniversary.”

“Oh god,” Shoma groaned, covering his face with his hand. “You count from when I confessed.”

“Yeah?” Yuzuru almost wanted to ask when exactly he was supposed to count from. Or if Shoma had been counting at all. Maybe not. Yuzuru didn’t take that personally. Dates weren't exactly Shoma’s strength.

“ _Please,_ don’t tell anyone we had sex the first time on our anniversary,” Shoma pleaded. “That’s so lame.” Yuzuru laughed, snuggling closer. He thought it was kind of romantic, even if it was kind of cliche. Shoma shot Yuzuru his best puppy-dog eyes. “Kanako would tease me, and I’d have to stop talking to her again.”

“I won’t. Promise.”

“Our anniversary, huh?” Shoma turned onto his front, hand coming up to idly stroke beneath Yuzuru’s collarbones. He looked up at Yuzuru from under his lashing, eyes shining. “So... how many minutes exactly do you need?”

 

***

 

Yuzuru awoke to a bang on the door. He had planned on ignoring it and going back to sleep, but the bang was followed by more incessant knocking. He groaned and opened his eyes, blearily looking over at the clock. He sighed and put his head back down on the pillow next to where Shoma was stubbornly still asleep and moulded himself to Shoma’s side, throwing an arm over his bare back. It was mid-morning, late enough that getting up would be okay but too early for Yuzuru to really care. He had today off, he was tired, and he ached. Getting out of bed was the least appealing thing he could think of right now. Maybe if he ignored the knocking, it would go away.

The knocking stopped, punctuated with one dull thunk that sounded suspiciously like someone’s head meeting the door, and then the door flew open. Yuzuru yelped and looked over to a disgruntled looking Keiji standing in the doorframe.

“Hey, Shoma!” Keiji said, loud enough to make Shoma stir. “You need to get up, shower and finish packing. You’re leaving in three hours.”

Shoma didn’t even open his eyes. “Three hours is loads of time,” he protested, muffled by his pillow.

Keiji ignored him. “Crack open a window. It _stinks_ in here.” He glanced at Yuzuru and shot him a knowing smile. “I would high five both of you, but I don't want to touch you.”

Yuzuru huffed out a small laugh and carefully sat up, looking around the room for a water bottle or a glass. His throat felt dry. His eyes landed on his bag beside the bed and he cautiously, keeping the bedsheet help tight around him, stuck out a leg to drag it closer with his foot so he could get some underwear without giving Keiji an eyeful. 

Keiji looked back at Shoma, who had not moved at all, and sighed.“Ryui and I are leaving in ten minutes.”

“‘Kay. Bye.”

Yuzuru drew himself back under the sheets and started to stealthy wiggle himself into his underwear. He looked at Keiji hopefully. “Can you get me some water before you leave?”

Keiji flashed a grin. “Get out of bed and get it yourself.”

“Have a nice time in Seoul,” Yuzuru said with a defeated pout. “I’ll message you later.”

“Bye Yuzu,” Keiji said, much kinder. “Please kick him out of bed and make him pack.”

Shoma put the pillow over his head.

 

***

 

They did get up eventually. And freshly showered with breakfast in their bellies, they sorted out Shoma’s room. Yuzuru helped Shoma pack away the last of his things while he shoved his own dirty clothes into his bag. Somewhere along the line, they veered off course. Which was how they ended up making out with Shoma on his back, Yuzuru above him with a thigh between his legs and a hand up his shirt. There were things scattered around them; chargers, an empty bottle, a folded up t-shirt yet to be packed away, Shoma’s headphones that Yuzuru liked to grumble about because their sound quality wasn’t that good. That didn’t matter though. All Yuzuru cared about was Shoma’s mouth, his hands rucking up Yuzuru’s shirt and the soft sounds coming from the back of Shoma’s throat.

Yuzuru drew back and grinned wickedly. “We should probably finish packing first.”

Shoma made a small sound of protest and shifted to press against Yuzuru’s thigh. He reached out beside him, grabbing one of the bottles on the bed and tossed it at Yuzuru.  “Then you should remember the strawberry flavoured lube is yours.”

Yuzuru caught it and laughed. “Keiji gave it to me. I don’t even understand why it needs to be flavoured--”

Shoma gave him a look, lifting his hips slightly so Yuzuru could tug down his sweatpants. “Your porn collection must be really boring.”

“Oh yeah?” Yuzuru raised a brow, squirting some of the lube on his hand and giving it a sniff. It did smell like strawberries at least. Weird. He wrapped his slick hand around Shoma and gave him one long, slow stroke. Shoma wasn’t totally hard, yet. Yuzuru would correct that. “And yours is full of kinky stuff?”

“Obviously less dull than yours,” Shoma got out, voice strained.

Yuzuru rubbed his thumb over the head of Shoma’s cock, smirking at the way Shoma gasped and the muscles in his belly jumped. “Hmm, maybe someday you can show me.”

Shoma’s brow furrowed, cheeks starting to turn pink. “Porn? Or what you can do with this?”

“Why not both?”

Shoma made an odd, choked sound. Somewhere between a laugh and a moan. Yuzuru grinned. He forgot how fun sex could be. Even just stroking someone and watching them react. It was unfair how Shoma remained handsome and cute, even like this. _Especially_ like this.

“Why did Keiji give you lube?”

“He’s a jerk?”

Shoma rolled his eyes, lifting his hips to urge Yuzuru to move faster. “And you let me think you came prepared this whole time.”

Yuzuru deliberately slowed down. “I guess you’re always prepared.”

“Maybe,” Shoma grunted, tilting his head back when Yuzuru dipped down to kiss his neck. “I mean, I brought stuff with me at least.”

“Yeah? What did you bring? Handcuffs?” Yuzuru cast his eyes up, pushing Shoma’s shirt up to his armpits with his unoccupied hand and pressing his lips below where the cotton bunched up.

Shoma sighed. “No. But I wish I brought a gag.”

“It really is the quiet ones you need to watch out for, huh?” Yuzuru laughed, still stroking Shoma slowly. He edged himself lower, kissing the muscle beside Shoma’s hipbone, across to his navel Shoma squirmed. Yuzuru licked a line from the base of Shoma’s erection to the tip. He hummed thoughtfully. “You know, it doesn’t taste that bad.”

Shoma held the back of Yuzuru’s head gently. Not forcing him down, just holding.

“Yuzu. _Please_.”

Yuzuru licked his lips and took Shoma into his mouth.  
They did have some time they could waste.

 

***

Gala practices were always Yuzuru’s favourite because of how much everyone could goof around in them. Javier was in Spain and Shoma was in Japan, but Yuzuru had Misha there to be his primary partner in crime, Junhwan as his second in command, and Boyang flashing them cheeky smiles, chatting enthusiastically with Misha acting as a translator. Yuzuru was delighted that Misha had gotten an invitation to the gala, but not entirely surprised.

“Crowds love me,” Misha joked. “And I prepared a kpop program for the occasion.”

“Wait ‘til you see it, it’s really cool,” Evgenia gushed. Yuzuru was happy to see her smiling. She had pulled out of competition with injuries around the same time he had but had landed in second place. He knew the silver had disappointed her, but he could also see a fire in her eyes. Next time, she’d get gold. He could sense her determination for there to be a next time, and for that Olympic Gold to end up around her neck. He watched her as she skated off to join Alina, throwing an arm around her shoulder and smiling. No hard feelings. If he would remember this Olympics for anything, it would be the friendships. Gold medalists and silver medalists congratulating each other wholeheartedly. Everyone getting along with bright smiles once the competition was done.

The second day was where they all really let loose. It was less of a practice and more like a play session with all the boys. Shoma had returned that morning, coming in late with his hair it’s typical mess and a happy grin. Yuzuru was amused that Shoma’s mom had used their trip home as an opportunity to re-dye his hair to get rid of the highlights that had turned brassy.

“What did I miss yesterday?” Shoma asked, both of them leaning against the rink wall waiting for the ice to be ready.

“Nothing much.” Yururu turned to him, catching Shoma’s soft smile and warm eyes. His cheeks ached from smiling. It was strange how Shoma could do nothing, and still Yuzuru would feel a little burst of love in his chest that temporarily took his breath away. “Misha and I came up with a mini-Olympics for today, though!”

“Eh?” Shoma tilted his head, adorably confused.

Their Mini-Ice Olympics included everyone pretending the speed skate around the rink. Yuzuru caught an edge on the first turn and wiped-out in spectacular style, skidding across the ice on his butt and rashing into the rink wall in peels of laughter. Misha broke from the race to help him up, laughing.

Then there was curling with water bottles, using the bottles and an obstacle course and seeing who could spin on their butt for the longest. Yuzuru didn’t want to linger too much on the idea that he would never get a chance to mess around with everyone like this again. He didn’t want to think about the ghost of pain in his ankle that hovered at the edge of his consciousness even though he took painkillers that morning. For now, he just wanted to enjoy everything as much as possible, hold on tightly to the happiness he had here and never let it go.

Yuzuru packed another overnight bag after practice and scurried out, avoiding Ghislain’s amused gaze, hastily promising to be back in time for training in the morning.

***

“Javi!” Yuzuru yodelled, skipping towards him through the warm-up area. It was typical of Javier to wait until the last moment to make his arrival, but at least he always showed up. Yuzuru threw his arms around Javier’s neck and gave him a short hug.

“Hi!” Javier laughed. “Wow, you’re happy.”

“I’m always happy!” Yuzuru grinned. Javier lifted his brows in amusement. “Did you celebrate well?”

“Yeah.” Javier smiled warmly, taking his hands off Yuzuru’s waist and gesturing for them to sit down on one of the benches. “It was great to see my family. Though I still think you cried to most.” Yuzuru pouted, taking a seat next to Javier. “So, you had fun without me?”

“I managed,” Yuzuru teased.

“Hmm, I know.” Javier nudged Yuzuru lightly with his shoulder. “Ghislain tells me you’re sneaking out every night--”

Yuzuru groaned in embarrassment. He was thrilled to be having sex, of course, and it was natural that he would jump on pretty much every opportunity while he could when there was no knowing when he would see Shoma again once the Olympics were over. But he didn't want everyone knowing about it.

“He says you are sleeping in someone else’s room every night,” Javier continued, laughing at the blush rising in Yuzuru’s cheeks.  “Don’t worry I told him you were probably nerding out playing video games.”

“What would you do if your girlfriend was here?” Yuzuru shot back, sullen and defensive.

“Oh, exactly the same. But I’d be showing up to practice late.”

Yuzuru laughed, relaxing a bit. Talking about these things with Javier was weird. Yuzuru hadn’t met his girlfriend and possibly never will. In a way that made it easier. But Javier knew Shoma, saw him, skated with him. Yuzuru supposed it was a testament to how far they had come. Now they could talk about anything.

He glanced at Javier’s face, noticing the shadows under his eyes.  “You must be so tired, going to Spain and coming back.”

“I’m starting to feel old,” Javier told him soberly. “But it was worth it to get to see everyone and do some media stuff and start to organise things.” He smiled. “I’m going to be busy for a while.”

Yuzuru nodded. It was long past time that Javier got some recognition for his work from his home country, but they both knew the attention would be short-lived. Javier would have to do a lot of work to build up the sport in Spain. A land of sun and sea wasn't easily sold on something that was done indoors on ice. But he had done so much already. The foundations were there.

“After the gala, will you go back to Spain or…”

“Yeah,” Javier said with a nod. “I’m not doing Worlds.”

Yuzuru’s stomach dropped. “You’ll move there straight away?”

“No,” Javier started with a shake of his head. “I haven’t moved all my stuff from Toronto yet, so I’ll go back.” He placed a hand on Yuzuru’s knee as if reassuring him that he was going to disappear overnight. “I just have stuff to do at home first. Like sleep and eat a lot.”

“You’re really retiring,” Yuzuru uttered in a small voice. Yuzuru had known it was coming, but knowing didn’t make it any easier to accept. There was no way for Javier to retire and move back to Madrid without leaving a massive hole in Yuzuru’s life.

“I don’t know. I haven’t figured it all out yet.” Javier pulls a face at Yuzuru’s mournful puppy eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. I’ll be doing shows in Japan still. I need money.” They both laughed, short and awkward. At least Javier was adored in Japan. He’d have work there as a pro-skater every summer without fail.  
“Are you going to do Worlds?”

“Probably not,” Yuzuru said glumly. “Javi. You know. This could be my last competition too.”

“No. Yuzu, no. Don't think that,” Javier squeezed Yuzuru’s knee. “It might not be that bad.”

“I can’t skate without painkillers,” Yuzuru looked down and sighed. “It might not get better.”

“It will.” Javier pulled Yuzuru closer, putting his arm around Yuzuru’s narrow shoulders. “You’ll rest, you’ll heal. You’ll do your rehab over the summer, and you’ll come back stronger.”

Yuzuru let his head flop onto Javier’s shoulder. “I can’t do rehab without you. You stop me from going crazy.”

“You can do it. You’re stronger than you think.” Javier got Yuzuru to look up at him, cocking his head.  “Hey, I’ll drop by when I can. We’ll hang out.”

Yuzuru held out his little finger. “Promise.”

Javier chuckled and linked their fingers. Yuzuru sat up and rolled back his shoulders to crack his back.

“I’m glad you’re going to let yourself heal,” Javier said stretching his legs out in front of him. “It drives me nuts when you push yourself.”

“Why?”

“I hate seeing you suffer,” Javier told him as if it were something Yuzuru should just know.  “This is the happiest I’ve seen you in a long time. That’s even more precious than my medal.”

Yuzuru rolled his eyes and shoved him. Javier could be unbelievably sappy.  
“I think you like seeing me cry.”

Javier grinned. “You’re very pretty when you cry.”

Yuzuru screwed up his face. “Pervert.”

Javier lunged, tickling Yuzuru’s waist, knowing exactly where he was the most sensitive. Yuzuru shrieked with laughter and squirmed until he fell off the bench and his butt hit the floor.

***

Yuzuru often made his programs with a specific image in mind. He’d chose the music carefully, send it to the editors with suggestions and go back and forth until it fit what he wanted. He talked to Jeff and Shae-Lynn and David explaining what he wanted to create to help them choreograph something that matched his ideas, he would describe his plans for costumes in detail, and give feedback until the packaging created the aesthetic he needed. Competitive programs tended to be more free-flowing, no solid base meaning but a mood he wanted to develop or a story he wanted to interpret that could change with his mood from performance to performance. Gala programs were the same, in a way. The performance would always vary depending on his mood. But the meaning usually stayed the same.

Yuzuru was a sentimental skater. Almost to a fault. That was how he drew art into the sport. In figure skating; without meaning, there is no art, but without technical ability, there is no medium for art to exist in. If the skating wasn’t beautiful and clean, the message was lost, and the meaning fell apart.

Yuzuru shook his legs to keep them warm before he stepped onto the ice. Tonight he would skate clean and beautifully, so the art could shine.

 

At Sochi, Yuzuru had presented White Legend at the gala. Not for the nostalgia of it being his first senior program, but because that was the program he skated after the earthquake. That was the program he turned to when he was considering quitting skating altogether, when he decided not to and when all he could do was to perform at charity events to raise money for the victims less fortunate than him.

Notte Stellata was a sister program of sorts. Though it had shifted and changed for each performance, at its core, it was a dedication to home. It was two stories being told at once. One of the swan, grown up, displaying its beauty under the night's sky. The other story was Yuzuru, sat outside the evacuation centre the night after the earthquake, unable to sleep from fear of aftershocks, looking up at the sky. The power cuts across the city, across all of Miyagi, meant that more stars were visible than Yuzuru had ever seen before. The night sky transformed to hundreds of lights filling inky black darkness. Yuzuru had stared up at them for hours. They had made him feel very small, but it was oddly comforting. If he was small then so were all of his problems, all of his fears. Everything small and insignificant in a far greater universe.

When he had continued skating, when he had left Sendai to train elsewhere while the rink was damaged and later left for Toronto to pursue his dreams, he had felt guilty. Like he was running away. Like he didn’t deserve to carry on with this thing that he loved. There were times he questioned why he was alive. If his survival was a mistake…

It got better. He tried to channel it into his skating. It worked. If he could do little else, he could bring pride to the people he had left behind. He worked hard to do that. People called him the hope of Tohoku, called him their light. He took the responsibility to live up to those titles very seriously.

He owed it to everyone who had suffered, to everyone who cheered for him and supported him, to do well. This was his gift to them. Two Olympic gold medals and a program, remembering the stars that lit up the sky after the disaster. A reminder that even in the darkest hour, there can be hope.

Yuzuru didn’t think he would ever let go of the responsibility of being Tohoku’s light. But he had done what he had always intended to do. He had achieved what he had wanted to achieve. He had won two Olympics consecutively. Now he felt released from the pressure to win for his region. The guilt was lifted. He had proven his worth.

 

He didn’t want to retire. There were still things in the sport he wanted to do, for his own satisfaction. He looked forward to skating without the weight of guilt looming over him. He wanted to enjoy this era of skating that he had waited so long to come to fruition.

But that might not be possible.

If this would be his last skate, at least he would be remembered as a winner. At least his final skate would be something beautiful. A program that meant something. A performance that came from his heart.

He had to think positively. When his performance was over, and everyone re-entered the ice for the finale, Yuzuru reached back to hold Javier’s hands. If this was their last competition together, then this was their last gala together. The last time they would give their final bows to a crowd after a competition.

Yuzuru replayed Javier’s assurances in his head, over and over. Yuzuru would heal. He would get better. Positive thinking had got him to the Olympics. It could get him to next season too.

Ondrej lifted Yuzuru up when Misha took his group photograph so he could get in the photo above everyone else. Javier grinned at him while he was lowered, Valentina shaking her finger at Yuzuru warning him not to steal her partner.

Yuzuru took Javier’s hand to bow to the crowd, happy.

This wouldn't be the end. Even if Javier retired. Even of Yuzuru’s ankle was terribly injured, deep in Yuzuru’s heart, he knew they would meet again on the ice.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh god i've almost finished this fic. this will be the first long fic i have actually finished since 2002
> 
> Actually, this COULD be the last chapter. Next is kinda more like an epilogue.


	26. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuzuru and Shoma cuddle on a couch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is unbeta'd. Godspeed.

Yuzuru hummed, his eyes slipping closed as he pressed a kiss to Shoma’s temple with a small twist of his neck. He could feel his butt starting to fall asleep, so he moved the leg that was up on the sofa and subtly wiggled as much as possible without disturbing Shoma. The couch in Shoma’s (parent’s) apartment was comfortable, with a decent amount of cushions, so Yuzuru wasn’t uncomfortable even if he was almost in the corner with Shoma between his legs, back against his chest and his head pillowed on Yuzuru’s shoulder.

It wasn’t the first time Yuzuru had visited Shoma’s home. He had spent a weekend before Shoma had to leave for Milan. Yuzuru had a meeting in Tokyo, while his ankle still needed rest, and Nagoya was in the middle. Now it was a similar thing, only Yuzuru had come back to Japan after weeks of rehab and was heading back to Tokyo to _hold_ his ice show, not only organise it. World’s had finished weeks ago. Shoma had a little time to recuperate and accept that he had gotten another silver medal. He was mollified by the fact they had kept the three spots, but still somewhat wounded that he had missed out on the gold due to shaken confidence and having to compete in pain.

“It was just boot stuff,” Shoma murmured dismissively when Yuzuru thought to check if his foot was feeling okay now. Yuzuru hummed, relieved at least that Shoma hadn’t been skating on a more serious injury, but still regretful that Shoma had been in pain at all. Twinges on the instep could be unbearable. Shoma flitted his eyes towards Yuzuru. “I need to maintain them better.”

“Yeah you do,” Yuzuru gently chided. “Didn’t Javi tell you that a hundred times this season?”

“Probably.” Shoma shrugged. “I only understand forty-percent of what he says to me.”

Yuzuru laughed. That was always the struggle with talking with skaters from other countries, the area where your understanding of each other falls short. Even though Yuzuru’s English had improved a lot since he first moved to Canada, finding words that fit his thoughts was a struggle, and he would rank his level of understanding at maybe 80%.

Shoma twisted his neck a bit more to look at Yuzuru more squarely, a smile playing on his lips. “He’s still stuck in Spain, right?”

“Yeah.” It was kind of unfortunate. Yuzuru had invited Javier to his ice show, but it was during his birthday, and while Yuzuru thought it would be nice to skate on his birthday, Javier’s manager had arranged for other things. Javier ended up with a lot of things he couldn’t get out of.  “But he’s going to do a video call on his birthday to skate for everyone. Since I put his name on the t-shirts.” Yuzuru flapped his hand, _whatever_. “I’ll see him at Fantasy anyway.”

Shoma froze. “Wait, you’re doing that?”

“I thought I told you?” Yuzuru frowned. He hadn’t decided he would until very recently, but since he was clear to skate - so long as he didn’t jump - at his own show, he figured by the time the tour came up he’d be able to do more. Even if he couldn’t, he would be able to do something. He could do shows and keep up his rehab without pushing himself wildly beyond his limits.

“Yuzu!” Shoma sat up, pulling away from Yuzuru enough so he could twist at the waist and playfully smack at Yuzuru’s chest. “I turned it down because I thought you weren’t going!”

“Oops.”

Shoma turned and settled back down, albeit grumpily and knocking the air out of Yuzuru when he flopped against him. “I’m going to Montreal instead.”

“Oh.” Yuzuru pulled Shoma closer with arms around his waist and hands flat against his belly. He knew  “How long are you training there?”

“I think I’ll be there when Fantasy ends?” Shoma tilted his head, bottom lip pouty and eyes looking up towards the ceiling as if his schedule was stuck up there. Yuzuru chuckled, Shoma poked his thigh. “Get the first flight back to Toronto.”

“I will, I will. I promise,” Yuzuru muttered into Shoma’s hair. “You owe me at least one weekend at my house, right?”

Shoma smiled up at him. “One in Toronto, one in Sendai, right?”

“Sounds fair.” Yuzuru felt bad; he should have told Shoma about the show sooner. Making assumptions and not-so-great communication was a bad habit but it was really something that had slipped Yuzuru’s mind. Still, it bothered him that he didn’t share the news at a point where maybe Shoma might have made different plans. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about signing up for the tour. My sponsors really push for me to go unless I totally can’t skate and--”

“It’s okay,” Shoma said, squeezing Yuzuru’s thigh. “I know.”

Shoma’s hair had been damp from his shower when they had settled down on the sofa, but now it was dry and soft, curling in places, tickling Yuzuru’s cheek when he moved. They had put a movie on, more for an excuse to cuddle on the sofa than out of genuine interest in watching it. Shoma’s phone was against his knee, after a stint of gaming while he iced his feet. The ice was gone now, too. Just the hum of the television as background noise remained.

Shoma was dozy, eyes getting less open by the minute and his blinks getting slow and heavy. But he was still talking, so he wasn’t quite falling asleep. Just comfortable and warm and worn out from practice. His eyes opened, more alert, once he felt Yuzuru’s lips against his forehead and he glanced up at him with a slow, lazy kind of smile.

Yuzuru’s hands were underneath Shoma’s t-shirt now, stroking over his belly. His fingers skirted up to feel where the muscle is hard under smooth skin. He could feel where they were more defined, fingers tripping over the rise of muscle, then down again. Down below his navel to stroke the small pocket of softness right above the waistband of his sweatpants. Sometimes drifting to the side to follow the curve of his hip. Yuzuru liked Shoma’s body; the little soft part of his lower belly. He liked to kiss over where Shoma’s stomach was firm and continue down to that tiny layer of fat, nip at the rise of it with his teeth and smooth his hands over round hips. He had done that last time he had visited. When everyone else was asleep; the two of them playing a game to see who could stay quiet, and who could make the other break. Yuzuru lost.

This wasn’t a sexual touch. It was more like stroking a cat. Or a puppy, Yuzuru thought with a smile. A touch with no purpose. Just petting Shoma’s belly for the sake of feeling skin beneath his hands. For the warmth and closeness and comfort that came with it.  


“You met with Kanako today, right?”

“Yup.” Yuzuru nodded. He needed to amuse himself while Shoma had practice, seeing Kanako was exactly what he needed. “I meant to last time, but she was busy.”

“Did she say anything embarrassing about me?”

“Nope. We were just catching up.” Yuzuru assured him, chuckling. He thought of how it had been, getting a drink with her, chatting away. The sparkle was back in her eyes, a radiance in her smile brighter than he had seen it in years. “She seems happy after retiring.”

Shoma hummed. “Yeah. It was the decision for her. The right time.”

She had asked Yuzuru if he thought about when might be the right time for him. Truthfully, Yuzuru still had no idea. Probably not this season, maybe the next but he really couldn’t say. She had teased, asked the question Yuzuru knew he would be asked a hundred times before he gave a yes or no answer - if he would four more years and another Olympics. He didn’t know about that either. That hadn’t ever been his dream. But that didn’t mean it couldn't be. It depended on if his body could handle it, if his mind could if he could stay competitive and could have a chance of winning. A lot can change in four years.

He didn’t want to put that weight of his shoulders. Not now. Not yet. After operating for so long thinking of some grand bigger picture and playing the long game, aiming for two Olympic golds and getting them, it was a welcome relief to have to luxury to bring everything back in and shrink everything down. Just focus on each day. Smaller goals. Right now he wanted to get through rehab.

“She was teasing me,” Yuzuru said. Shoma tilted his head curiously. “I admitted I’m still scared of your parents.”

Shoma turned his head to shoot Yuzuru a baffled look. “Why?”

“What if they don’t like me?”

Shoma’s brows furrowed further as if Yuzuru said something painfully stupid. “Are you kidding? My parents adore you,” he said with a small roll of his eyes. “They’re probably already mentally calling you their son-in-law. I half expect them to start booking the flights to Hawaii or whatever--” Shoma caught the look of Yuzuru’s face and the way his whole body froze; the fingers that had been happily running over the slightly squishy part of Shoma’s belly stopping abruptly. “What?”

“I- I wasn’t expecting...that.” Yuzuru blinked. Shoma could probably feel Yuzuru’s heart hammering against his back. It left Yuzuru momentarily stunned.

“Too much?”

“No, just...different,” Yuzuru said slowly. “The only other person I dated started seeing me knowing when it would end. But you joke about us getting married or something like it’s no big deal.”

Shoma hummed and turned back, as if returning to pretend to watch the movie, nuzzling in against Yuzuru’s clavicle. “It’s not to me. I’d be happy to be old and grey and still be falling asleep on you. You’re very comfortable.”

Yuzuru bit his lip and sharply looked up at the ceiling. Shoma could sometimes say things that were so sweet, but also so blunt and honest and sincere and so obviously said without really thinking. And that was what gave them the power to knock the air out of Yuzuru completely. It wasn’t something Shoma said because he thought Yuzuru wanted to hear it, he _genuinely_ felt that way.  Shoma huffed. “Don’t _cry_.”

“I’m not crying,” Yuzuru croaked. Shoma snorted.

“I’m not going to run out for rings and ask you to grow old with me _right now_ ,” Shoma told him, mostly sounding amused. “But I can see us still dating next year, the year after. Does that freak you out?”

“A little?” Yuzuru looked down and gave Shoma a shaky smile. “But not in a bad way. I feel the same.”

Shoma lightly elbowed Yuzuru and grinned. “If one tear falls out of your eye I’m going to tickle you.”

Yuzuru laughed and wiggled one hand from under Shoma’s t-shirt so he could cup Shoma’s jaw, guide his face up and kiss him. Just soft and short. Still, Shoma leant up to meet him, slipping his hand to the back of his neck for support. Yuzuru couldn;t resist going back for a second short kiss. A third...

“Ugh, get a room.” Itsuki’s delightful teenage tone made Yuzuru pull back and Shoma slump back down against Yuzuru’s chest. Itsuki flopped onto the empty seat beside them and smiled. “Yuzu, you’re good at math, right?”

“Yeah?”

Itsuki held up a book and sighed. “I’ve nearly finished my homework, but there are a few problems I just...can't remember what I’m supposed to do with them...Can you help me?”

Yuzuru was touched that Itsuki would ask him for help and beamed. “Sure!” He poked Shoma’s side. “You gonna let me up.”

“I guess.”

They rearranged. Shoma let Yuzuru up so he could scoot next to Itsuki, then promptly lay down with his head on Yuzuru’s lap and his legs dangling off the armrest. Yuzuru looked through the maths book Itsuki laid out between them and guided him through the five-or-so problems he had left blank before quickly checking over the others. It was a worthy interruption, worth it to have Itsuki smile and thank him.  

Once it was done, Yuzuru went right back to cuddling Shoma. Itsuki stayed, ignoring them except to comment on what was on the TV or to pass Shoma his phone so they could take turns playing the game on there.

This was it, Yuzuru thought. This was what total contentment felt like.

He knew there would be other things that would bring him joy in the next few weeks and months. Being able to skate in front of a crowd again and the rush of having his own show. Going back to Toronto to carry on building his strength and getting his ankle back in shape might be hard, but he knew the moment would come where he’d feel the progress he had made and get to taste the happiness of that. Seeing Javier again, of course. But none of that would be quite like just sitting in Shoma’s living room, half watching TV, carding his fingers through Shoma’s hair.

Yuzuru had thought the explosive rush of happiness from the Olympics would fade away and disappear, leaving him with just the memory of the feeling. But it didn’t. Instead it settled in his skin and curled up inside him, quieter and gentler but always there. An unmatched feeling of satisfaction. An indescribable sense of rightness and worthiness and peace that was nestled in his heart to remain forever.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe this is the first LONG Chaptered fic I have actually totally finished since like 2005  
> yay now I can write other things a bit less canon compliant/actually fully AU
> 
> I kinda think I suck at endings but there you go


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